


Everything Has A Price

by frizz22



Series: Deals with the Devil [1]
Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: !momZelda, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Death, F/M, Gen, Prices Must Be Paid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-09-15 11:05:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 25,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16932105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frizz22/pseuds/frizz22
Summary: Aunt Zelda had warned her, said they were all in a grave, that everything had a price. Sabrina just hadn’t listened.Spoilers for 1x08 and 1x09





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Started as a one shot and got wayyy too long. Hope you enjoy.

Sabrina staggered back home, the gunshot still ringing in her ears. This was the price. What Aunt Zelda had told her about, what she’d purposely ignored in her pursuit of what she’d deemed was right. But Sabrina couldn’t think of a time when she’d been so, so very wrong. 

The worst of it was, she hadn’t paid the price…not really. While her heart may be breaking into thousands of painful shards, Harvey was the one who’d had to go and kill the brother he’d thought had so miraculously returned. Harvey was the one suffering. Again. Only this time, this time it was completely her fault. 

As the house came into sight, Sabrina could make out a figure on the porch. She was equally dreading and hoping that it was Aunt Zelda. Desperate for the comfort her aunt could provide but wanting to avoid the shouting match and lecture she thought might be waiting for her instead. 

“Aunt Zelda,” she stated, voice breaking as she neared the porch. “It’s over. Tommy’s dead. And Harvey and I—” She couldn’t finish, it’d all been far too much, the tears that she had been too shocked to let fall come pouring out now. A sob wrenching itself from her throat. 

The effort of holding herself upright, of making it up the stairs was suddenly daunting. Sabrina stumbled forward and fell onto one of the lower porch steps. She’d barely made contact with the wood when Aunt Zelda was catching her, scooping her into her arms and holding her tight. 

Zelda made soothing noises, cradling Sabrina and pressing kisses to her hair as she rocked. More sobs bubbled up her throat, she didn’t deserve the comfort, not after what she’d done. Especially not from Aunt Zelda, those awful words she’d shouted echoed in the back of her mind—that Zelda wasn’t her mother. 

Perhaps it was true, technically. But Aunt Zelda was one of the closest things Sabrina had ever had to a parent. Taking several gulping breathes, Sabrina pulled back slightly to meet her aunt’s gaze, fully intending to fix at least one of the most important relationships in her life. Zelda furrowed her brow and cupped Sabrina’s cheek, waiting patiently. 

Before Sabrina could form the words, however, the strangest sensation stole over her. She’d learned about summoning at the academy, but had never witnessed it, let alone experienced it. But she knew that was what was happening and from Aunt Zelda’s wide-eyed expression before she too disappeared, Sabrina knew her conclusion was correct. 

They both staggered a bit upon reappearing. Sabrina whipped her head around trying to get her bearings when Aunt Hilda and Ambrose appeared as well just a few feet to their left. Ambrose had only one shoe on, the other in his hand, and Hilda was frozen with a cooking spoon held aloft—clearly having been in the middle of brewing something. 

The Spellman’s exchanged baffled looks as to why they were in the Church of Night, Sabrina about to ask the obvious when Aunt Zelda spoke—directing her question to a figure Sabrina hadn’t noticed before. 

“Faustus,” she sighed, “what is—” 

“This was not my doing, I didn’t—” He began, but cut himself off as a hulking form emerged from the back of the church. 

A collective gasp escaped the Spellman family, the hoofed feet and curling horns unmistakable. Ambrose and Hilda moved forward and pressed against Sabrina and Zelda’s backs. 

“My Dark Lord,” Zelda murmured, half bowing and attempting a smile, though it wavered and disappeared. “To what do we owe—” 

“Precisely.” The growling voice cut off Zelda’s. “You owe.” 

Aunt Zelda straightened and pushed Sabrina further behind her. Sabrina’s eyes flickered back and forth between her aunt and the Dark Lord, not understanding what was happening. 

“And how did we incur this debt? If I may ask.” Zelda bowed her head slightly, but her arms came up to keep her family shielded behind her. 

The Devil’s laughter grated Sabrina’s ears and she had to resist the urge to cover them. “The easier question would be what your family has not done, Sister Zelda. Father Blackwood, read off the offenses.” The being waved a hand in Blackwood’s direction and the man stepped forward with a parchment. 

Sabrina noticed that Father Blackwood was paler than even usual, and a nervous sweat beaded his brow. He seemed to be dreading this as much as her family was. 

Clearing his throat, Blackwood began to read aloud. “The Spellman family, headed by a Zelda Fiona Spellman, is found guilty of the following. An attempt to blow up the false god’s church in Rome by one Ambrose Spellman—risking exposure of our kind and realm. Participation in a baptism for the false god by one Hildegard Spellman. Participation in a forbidden exorcism on a mortal by Zelda Spellman, Hildegard Spellman and Sabrina Spellman. Participation in the disrupt—” Blackwood stumbled, his eyes finding them for a brief moment in silent apology before continuing. “Disruption of the Feast of Feasts by Zelda Spellman, Hildegard Spellman, Ambrose Spellman and Sabrina Spellman. Participation in the necromancy and attempted resurrection of a mortal which almost cost a witch’s life, by Sabrina Spellman.” 

Blackwood concluded and made eye contact with her Aunt Zelda once more, his expression unreadable. Well, at least to Sabrina, Zelda’s quiet, but sharp inhale told her that her aunt once more understood what was happening far more than Sabrina. Though she had an idea, they were in something considerably more serious than trouble. 

The Dark Lord stepped forward again. “A price must be paid for the actions of your family, Sister Zelda. They, and you, have frequently broken coven laws and traditions—without consequence. That ends today. The debt your family has accrued will be collected.” 

Sabrina couldn’t process this, it was all happening too fast. Some of these transgressions were months old, if not decades. She knew those weren’t the reason they had all been summoned to the church in front of the Dark Lord himself. 

It had been her attempt to resurrect Tommy. Her willingness to swap a witch for a mortal—no matter how temporary she’d intended that switch to be. It was her fault they were there, that this debt suddenly needed paying. Her attention was brought back to the situation when Aunt Zelda replied. 

“I understand. And I will pay it.” Zelda stepped away from Sabrina and towards the Devil. Sabrina reached out a hand to pull her aunt back, but both Ambrose and Aunt Hilda held her back. 

The Dark Lord tilted his head to examine her aunt. “The price is not yours alone to pay. The entire Spellman family must—” 

“No.” An unnerving silence followed the interruption. Everyone stunned that Aunt Zelda had cut into the Dark Lord’s statement. 

Father Blackwood took a step forward, “Zelda,” he murmured, watching her fearfully. But the rest of his sentence was drowned out in the booming of thunder outside of the church. 

“You dare!” Thunder rumbled through the church once more, but Sabrina watched in awe as her Aunt Zelda stood tall, not even flinching in the face of the Devil’s ire. 

Zelda lifted her chin a notch, “as the high priest stated, I am the head of the Spellman household. They are _my_ family, _my_ responsibility. Their transgressions are _mine_. So, I alone will pay the price.” 

“Sister Zelda,” and to Sabrina’s surprise, the Dark Lord seemed reluctant to dole out the punishment on her aunt alone. “It is not my wish to dispose of such a powerful and devout witch as yourself. You have centuries left, I had hoped for many more great things from you. Had plans for you.” 

Sabrina’s head spun, ‘dispose of’? No, he couldn’t possible mean— 

“It’s either me or no one.” Zelda stated firmly, meeting the Devil’s eyes directly. 

Sabrina wanted to yell at her aunt. Aunt Zelda should be bowing, kneeling, something to show respect to this powerful, dark being she’d worshipped most her life. But instead she was antagonizing him, challenging him to accept only her as the recipient of price. 

The Dark Lord shrugged, “plans can be changed. You alone will pay the price. But it will be higher because of it and your insolence.” 

“Deal.” 

“The price of your family’s actions is death.”


	2. Chapter 2

“The price of your family’s actions is death.” And Sabrina was sure that, had his goat-like features been capable, the Dark Lord would have been smirking. Thinking he’d outsmarted her aunt, that he’d pulled one over on her, had won. Made her pay for her impertinence, for not controlling her family. 

Then the words registered. 

And she, along with Ambrose, Aunt Hilda and even Father Blackwood exploded in protests. Offering to share the price, asking for any other deal. But it was too late, the Devil had struck a deal and he intended to keep it. 

Sabrina looked at everyone in a panic, trying to think of a way around it, to fight. But Hilda and Ambrose looked as though they’d be sick, and Father Blackwood was clutching the pulpit tightly as if it alone was keeping him upright, a pained expression on his face. 

Her eyes landed on Aunt Zelda once more, waiting for the fiery, stubborn aunt to emerge in all her glory to argue and badger the Dark Lord into setting a new price—to fight this as she fought almost everything else in life that came at her family, fiercely. But her aunt had simply taken a deep breath and nodded at the news. As if she’d known this would be the outcome when she offered to shoulder the price alone. 

And that, that couldn't be right—could it? Because that meant, that meant her aunt was still fiercely fighting for her family in the only way she thought would guarantee their safety. It meant that Zelda had resigned herself to this death if it meant preventing theirs. This conclusion was only further affirmed when her aunt calmly brought her gaze back to the Dark Lord and requested a moment to bid her family goodbye—and, perhaps taken aback by her composure, the Dark Lord granted the final wish. 

The room tilted around her dangerously, no, no, no. They couldn't just give up like this, not when the price was so high. But Aunt Zelda had already spun around, marched past Sabrina completely, and pulled a sobbing Aunt Hilda into a hard hug, talking fast. “You have to be the firm one now in addition to the strong one.” 

Hilda broke in, “you’ve always been the strong, I’ve never—" 

“Nonsense. You have always been strong. Who else but someone incredibly strong could have put up with me for centuries? But firm, you need to be that now too. No more encouraging crazy stunts like astral projecting dates and exorcisms.” When Aunt Hilda had made to interrupt once more, Zelda cut her off. “Take care of them. Protect them.” And it was a demand as much as a plea. 

Hilda nodded and hugged Zelda more firmly. “Love you, Zelds.” She whispered vehemently, before releasing her sister. 

Sabrina was just shaking her head, refusing to accept this. But Aunt Zelda was already moving on to Ambrose. 

And her cousin was clinging to Aunt Zelda, hands fisting the material of her coat. “Please don’t.” He begged, sounding and seeming far younger than Sabrina had ever seen him. Tears were streaming down his face as Zelda pulled back, just a little, to frame her nephew’s face. 

“Stay out of trouble now,” Aunt Zelda instructed, and Ambrose gripped her forearms tightly. “You have immense potential, don’t squander it once you’re free of the house completely. If you do, I will find a way to come back and haunt you. And you don’t need, or want, your old, bitter auntie cramping your style.” 

Ambrose was laughing and crying simultaneously. “If it brings you back in any capacity, I will raise all hell.” He vowed, lurching forward and embracing their aunt again. Though he eventually released her with a watery, “I love you, Auntie Zee.” 

Sabrina felt her knees give away a bit as Aunt Zelda turned to her, a few tears had escaped her aunt and trekked down her cheeks. Though Sabrina could tell she was holding back for their sake. “No, Auntie Zee. Please. I’m sorry, don’t—” and the rest of the words got caught in her quickly constricting throat, the tears coming hot and fast. 

And for the second time that night, Aunt Zelda wrapped Sabrina in her arms tightly and held her upright. “Oh, my girl,” she breathed, and it made Sabrina sob all the harder. “Don’t you dare let this dampen your fire and passion. I expect to meet you in hell, centuries from now, and hear of all the greatness you achieved. You hear me?” And Sabrina can barely breathe, let alone nod in acknowledgment of her aunt’s request. “No more crazy stunts. I won’t be around to save the day from out of control exorcisms anymore. _Be safe_.” The order came out softer than Sabrina thought her aunt meant it to, but it didn’t make it any less heartbreaking. 

Zelda kissed the top of Sabrina’s head just as the Dark Lord boomed, “it’s time.” 

Aunt Zelda tried to disengage, but Sabrina grasped at her desperately. “No! No, no, no. You can’t be my price. You can’t. Losing Harvey was supposed to be. This isn’t fair. There can’t be two prices.” 

Her aunt’s chin trembled, her resolve breaking for a moment. “It is my job to protect you. All of you.” She looked at the others over Sabrina’s head. “I would gladly do this again, pay this price over and over, if it meant your safety.” She pressed a kiss to Sabrina’s forehead and pulled away, a silent spell keeping Sabrina in place when she tried to follow once more. 

“Aunt Zelda, no!” Sabrina struggled against the spell. “There must be another way, please!” Her voice was raw, and she pushed and pushed against the spell. But her aunt was far stronger—in more ways than Sabrina had ever dared to imagine. 

In one last frantic attempt, Sabrina turned to the high priest. “Father Blackwood, do something!” She beseeched him as he finally moved away from the pulpit and towards Aunt Zelda. 

But instead of the heroics Sabrina hoped for, Blackwood simply cupped Aunt Zelda’s cheeks and rested his forehead against hers, tears slipping down his face. “I love you.” He murmured, stroking his thumb across her skin. 

Zelda chuckled ruefully, “I know.” She replied, before crashing her lips against his in a passionate kiss. Sabrina blinked, nonplussed, she didn’t need declarations of love. She needed Blackwood to convince her aunt there was another way—she listened to him (mostly). 

“I said, **it’s time!** ” Thunder crashed again and winds began to howl past the church. 

Aunt Zelda broke away, touching Father Blackwood’s cheek gently before removing his hands from where they’d come to rest on her hips. She then turned her attention to the group and even attempted to smile at them all reassuringly. 

“No!” Sabrina cried out, still fighting against the spell. She looked anxiously between the Dark Lord and her aunt. “Don’t touch her. I’ll do anything, please!” 

“It’s okay,” Aunt Zelda whispered, stepping backwards towards the center of the pentagram painted on the ground, keeping her eyes trained on her family. “It’s okay, it’s okay. You’ll be alright.” She repeated, nodding almost to herself. “You all haven’t really needed me in years anyway.” Another tear escaped down her cheek. “It’s okay, you’ll be alright.” 

“No, that’s not true! We need you. _**I need you, please**_ . Aunt Zelda, I can’t lose you. Not you.” Sabrina’s voice cracked as she glanced back at the others, hoping for support, but Ambrose had only moved closer to Aunt Hilda to slide his arm around her shoulders. Sabrina couldn’t believe they were just accepting this. 

She fought against the holding spell even harder, even managed to move an inch forward as Aunt Zelda’s resolve faltered at Sabrina’s words. But it was ultimately fruitless. 

Zelda knelt gracefully in the center of the pentagram. “I love you all. So, so much. Please know and remember that.” Her eyes swept over them all, even Father Blackwood. But her eyes settled on Sabrina last. “I love—” her statement abruptly ended in a spurt of blood—the Dark Lord, growing impatient, had slit her throat midsentence. 

Sabrina watched, transfixed, as her aunt’s body remained upright for another moment, before it crumpled fluidly to the ground. Graceful, even in death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little Star Wars homage in here, but I thought it was fitting for Spellwood. Hope you enjoyed the chapter :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for all of the comments. They mean so much, I’m glad you’re enjoying the story!

Hilda collapsed with an anguished scream, Ambrose following her to his knees in horrified silence. Father Blackwood turned away and was leaning heavily on the pulpit—hyperventilating. 

The spell holding Sabrina in place suddenly vanished, and she nearly fell forward as she rushed to reach her aunt. She pulled Zelda towards her, cradling her as her aunt had done for her not even an hour before. 

No, no, no, no. This couldn’t be the price. It couldn’t. She hadn’t had to chance to apologize for those awful words. She hadn’t even said she loved Aunt Zelda in those final moments—to caught up in denial. Hilda and Ambrose had said it, even Father Blackwood, but Sabrina…she’d had one last chance to tell her aunt exactly how important she was, how much she meant, and Sabrina had wasted it. 

Sabrina turned a tear-stained face towards the Dark Lord. “Bring her back. Whatever you want, I’ll do it.” But he was paying her no mind, his attention instead on the high priest—who’s grip on the wooden pulpit had started to smoke. 

“I will find you another suitable partner, Blackwood.” The deep voice rumbled in a bored tone. 

The high priest spun to face the Devil, “we had a deal.” Blackwood gritted out, eyes dark and tears drying on his cheeks. 

“Her deal took precedence over yours.” The words were spoken over the Dark Lord’s shoulder as he walked away, clearly done with the conversation. 

“You already took my children—” 

Satan turned sharply at the accusation. “Your wife took your children, Blackwood. She meddled with the Feast of Feasts and tried to pass it as my will. She had to forfeit her life, and that also meant the lives of your unborn children.” 

Father Blackwood clenched his fists, breathing heavily. “Why couldn’t you have waited until after she’d—” 

Lightning flashed in a warning outside the old stain glass windows. “We have discussed this, I will not do so again.” 

“Our deal…” came a hoarse, desperate croak. 

“Is now void. Continue to question me and I will not find a new way to fulfill my end. Your fixation on that woman,” the Dark Lord gestured dismissively towards Aunt Zelda, “was pathetic. Weak. Love is for mortals, Blackwood. You will lust after another soon enough.” 

The high priest’s cheeks flamed and his eyes flashed, but he said nothing. Simply bowed his head and asked if there was anymore he could do to serve the Devil or the church. The Dark Lord just chuckled and disappeared. Leaving the room significantly darker and colder. 

Blackwood turned to them, “I can help bring her body to—” 

Hilda managed to stand on shaky knees. “That won’t be necessary, Father. Spellmans take care of our own.” 

He nodded gravely, “but you will let me know when the, the funeral…” he trailed off, unable to complete the request. 

“What, what is wrong with all of you?!” Sabrina demanded, brushing Aunt Zelda’s hair back from her face. “We **have** to bring her back. The Cain pit, a resurrection, something.” 

Blackwood rounded on her. “Have you learned _nothing_?” He spat, voice dangerously low. “It is your flaunting of witching laws and the natural order, your attempts to bend them to your whim that resulted in this in the first place. You defy the Dark Lord at every turn and then try to cheat death itself—a force more powerful than even Satan. Did you really think losing the companionship of a _mortal_ boy would be a price? Would be enough retribution?” He sneered at the thought. “It’s your actions that killed her.” His rant culminated in a bellow, eyes wild with grief and the air crackling with his unchecked power. 

Sabrina shrank away from him, clutching her aunt closer to her—as if she could still provide protection. 

“Oi!” Hilda stepped between them and a new energy filled the air, causing the hair on Sabrina’s neck stand on end. “You back off, **now**.” And there was a steel in Aunt Hilda’s voice that Sabrina had never heard before. “Zelda sacrificed herself for her. _Don’t you dare even think of making her death be in vain._ " 

Blackwood paced away, looking eerily like a wild animal. He then swooped in close and kissed Aunt Zelda’s forehead, his lips lingering a moment, before disappearing in a teleportation spell. 

Hilda exhaled, slowly lowering the hand she'd raised in defense, “I almost just blasted him.” She murmured, almost to herself, as the tension in the air eased now that the warlock was gone. 

Sabrina’s lip trembled, noting that her aunt hadn’t refuted Blackwood’s accusations. In fact, she’d even stated that Aunt Zelda had died for her alone, not the whole family. But she couldn’t really blame her remaining aunt, she’d just lost her third sibling in less than a century….and Sabrina was at fault. 

Gently, Aunt Hilda coaxed her to release Aunt Zelda. “We have to send her home, love.” Sabrina laid her aunt down tenderly, tucking her hair back and smoothing her dress. 

Ambrose approached quickly then, he’d been standing apart from everything since the price had been paid. Pale and tight-lipped, he cast a silent spell and Aunt Zelda disappeared from the church floor, the only evidence of her death the pool of red spreading across the ground. 

Nodding, Hilda reached out a hand for Ambrose. “Let’s walk back, shall we? I don’t trust either of us to teleport three people.” 

It was a short walk, but as they neared the house, Sabrina slowed more and more, until she was lagging behind the others by at least 15 feet. Ambrose and Hilda walked ahead stiltedly—in part because of the recent events and because Ambrose still only had one shoe on; the other forgotten somewhere in the Church of Night. He seemed oblivious to this though, his arm wrapped tightly around their aunt’s sagging shoulders as they made their way forward. 

Occasionally, Hilda would half turn, as if to say something, but her mouth snapped shut each time, a haunted look in her expression Sabrina was sure her own face mirrored, before facing forward once more. Sabrina suspected Aunt Hilda wanted to comfort her, alleviate the pain, but it was too much too soon. Aunt Zelda’s blood was still drying on Sabrina’s clothes, she couldn’t blame her aunt for not being able to speak to her. 

She couldn’t blame Ambrose for not even looking at her either, Sabrina had stolen one of his guardians, one of his family members. Even after they’d all warned her, she’d had to push the boundaries. She couldn’t and didn’t blame her remaining family. 

It was all her fault. Aunt Zelda had warned her, said they were all in a grave, that everything had a price. Sabrina just hadn’t listened. And now there was no way to fix it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU with what happened to Constance and the twins, just cause I can and it's easier with her out of the way.


	4. Chapter 4

They each entered the house in, what Sabrina could only describe as, a zombie-like state. Aunt Hilda, bless her, headed to the kitchen immediately, glancing at them over her shoulder. 

“I think we could all use a cup of tea…no?” The offer was shaky, but the attempt at any sort of normalcy was deeply appreciated. Though Ambrose simply shook his head, not saying a word, and trudged upstairs to his bedroom in the attic without making eye contact with either of them. “Sabrina?” Hilda prodded, one hand on the kettle. 

And the moment suddenly reminded her forcefully of how Aunt Hilda made them all drink tea after the exorcism; regardless of how Aunt Zelda insisted something stronger would really suit her better. How the three of them had sat at the table and talked softly until Zelda ordered Sabrina to bed…only to appear in her bedroom door ten minutes later and threaten Sabrina within an inch of her life if she endangered herself like that again. 

The memory washed over Sabrina violently and she swallowed hard at how much she had taken advantage of her aunts. Darting forward, Sabrina crushed Aunt Hilda in a hug and bolted away before the woman even had a chance to respond, escaping up the stairs and into her room. 

Only her room wasn’t the refuge she’d hoped it to be. Sabrina was immediately confronted with her own reflection in the mirror by her bed. She was, quite literally, covered in Aunt Zelda’s blood. Hiccupping in distress, Sabrina fumbled over the buttons and hurriedly discarded the clothes in the hamper. As she did, Aunt Zelda's advice on how best to get blood out of clothing came unbidden to mind. 

Unable to even face the laundry hamper now without thinking of Zelda, Sabrina dove into the shower to scrub away the blood that had seeped through her clothes and onto her skin. But even after scrapping away at least one layer of skin with her loofah, Sabrina could still feel the blood, see the ghostly imprint of it on her skin. For the first time, Sabrina understood the character Lady Macbeth from her English assignment last year. 

Fresh tears pooling, Sabrina quickly jerked her pajamas on as she reentered her room. She’d made to throw herself onto her bed and bury her head under her pillow. But the desired piece of furniture was covered with various belongings. She swept everything onto the floor in one fell swoop, wanting nothing to do with the mortal backpack and its contents. They were only reminders of the life she’d so ferociously clung to….and what that attachment had cost her. 

Salem meowed indignantly and leapt off the bed, he pawed at and circled an overturned book on the ground. Sabrina ignored him, opting to press her face into her pillow to muffle the sobs now shaking her body. Eventually, Salem joined her on the bed, settling in the middle of her back and purring to soothe her until she fell asleep. 

The sweet escape of sleep didn’t last long though, only a few hours later Sabrina found herself awake and creeping down the stairs to the morgue. Salem wound himself around her legs, meowing in protest. Sabrina just hushed him. 

“I have to see her, Salem. I, I don’t want her to be alone down here.” She whispered, opening the door and making her way carefully down the metal, spiral staircase. But Sabrina paused after only going a few steps…her Aunt Hilda’s voice had just drifted up to her. 

Not wanting to interrupt, but also not wanted to draw attention to herself by climbing up the loud, metal stairs, Sabrina carefully lowered herself on one of the steps and peered down to see her aunt. She couldn’t help but notice that Aunt Zelda was in a different dress, this one not covered in blood and the grime from the church floor. Sabrina was grateful for this, Aunt Zelda had always been so put together in life, anything else, even in death, would have been unacceptable--and Aunt Hilda knew this. 

Hilda was gently cleaning the remaining blood from her sister’s slashed neck. Vinegar Tom had also made his way down to the morgue, Sabrina noticed. He was even lying on the examine table with Zelda, pressed against her side, his head resting on her lap, occasionally whining quietly. 

Sabrina wasn’t paying much attention to her aunt’s words, merely soaking in the miniscule shred of peace that others didn’t want Zelda to be alone either, when Aunt Hilda’s mention of Batibat made her focus. 

“You know, when that sleep demon came, and we were all trapped in those awful nightmares…I dreamed I was stuck to you forever.” Hilda let out a watery chuckle and wiped her eyes. “That was the worst thing to me. Being stuck with you. And now? Well, I can’t think of a worse thing than going through the centuries without my big sister staunchly by my side. Turns out my worst nightmare was, was losing you…” Hilda swallowed and set the sponge she’d been using aside. 

She smoothed Aunt Zelda’s dress and started to carefully brush her hair before continuing. “I know you said that I’ve always been the strong one. But I certainly don’t feel it. We each had our roles, Zelds. I don’t think I can take on yours. How can I? I’m supposed to be the domestic one, the caregiver in the background. You were the protector, the stubborn, fiery one. All biting wit, dry insults and powerful spells. We settled into our roles because they fit, they worked. You were always the strength.” 

Setting the brush down, Aunt Hilda clasped Zelda’s hand. “When Thomas died, and then Edward, you handled everything. You let me grieve our brothers, you let me feel and break down all the while taking so much onto yourself—making sure the family not only survived but prospered…even if it meant sacrificing parts of yourself to ensure just that. Don’t think I didn’t notice how you pushed Blackwood away all those years ago, how you gave up midwifery to keep the family business running. You were the strength, Zelds. And now you’re gone. And I don’t, I don’t know how—” Hilda gripped Aunt Zelda’s hand even tighter and bent to press her forehead against it. “I don’t know how to do this without you.” She choked out, sobs catching in her throat. 

Sabrina wiped away the tears her aunt’s words caused, biting down on her lip to prevent any gasping sobs of her own from escaping. Feeling like an intruder on a private moment, Sabrina made to get up and leave when Aunt Hilda’s next words froze her on the steps. 

“And the kids, Satan, Zelda, the kids.” Hilda speared her hands through her hair a little desperately. “How, how do I tell them, look them in the eye and tell them that everything will be alright? That time will heal this. When I don’t believe that for a second. When everything’s been ripped away again and ag—” but Hilda’s next question was abruptly cut off. And Sabrina’s head turned to follow her aunt’s gaze. 

“Aunt Zelda, I’ve brought you your favorite—” Ambrose was saying, shuffling through the main morgue door when he froze, realizing that Hilda was there. “I’m sorry, auntie, I didn’t realize…” 

Hilda sniffled, “come here.” She murmured, opening her arms, and Ambrose gratefully strode forward and embraced her, hunching over to press his forehead against her shoulder. Aunt Hilda’s hand came up and rested comfortingly on the back of Ambrose’s neck. “What did you find?” 

Ambrose pulled away slightly, brandishing the item he’d brought. “It’s Auntie Zee’s favorite scarf.” He admitted, running the fabric through his hands. “So, we can, can cover—” he grimaced and just gestured to Zelda’s ruined throat. “Then we can have an open casket.” 

“Oh, my thoughtful boy.” Hilda smiled tearfully, “she’d love it.” 

It was all too much. And Sabrina had never felt like more of an outsider, a trespasser in her own family. Here she was, spying on their intimate moments, their goodbyes. Swallowing past the enormous lump in her throat, Sabrina carefully stood and made her way back upstairs—somehow knowing that she wasn’t welcome in the morgue with the others. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

The next morning was not any easier. But Sabrina forced herself to get up, hearing Aunt Zelda’s voice scold her lightly that spending all day in bed was hardly a productive way of dealing with any situation. When she entered the kitchen, Sabrina found Aunt Hilda and Ambrose huddled together over something at the table. 

“Morning.” She greeted them quietly, approaching the table to take her usual seat. Her eyes instantly drawn to the empty spot where Aunt Zelda should have been, eating her burnt toast, smoking and drinking expresso behind her paper. 

Aunt Hilda turned and gave Sabrina a small smile, but Ambrose kept his eyes resolutely on the item in front of him. It was only when Sabrina took her seat that she realized what it was the two had been hunched over—Aunt Zelda’s morning paper; Russian this time by the looks. 

Hilda sighed and squeezed Ambrose’s shoulder before moving back to the stove. “I suppose we should try and figure out how to cancel these subscriptions. Satan knows no one else is able to read them.” 

Sabrina picked at her cuticles and asked, “can’t you read them, Aunt Hilda?” She hated the idea of the papers no longer coming. It seemed like too permanent a way of accepting Aunt Zelda’s death. 

“Satan no,” Hilda chuckled in a self-deprecating manner. “I know my basics, Spanish, French, Mandarin. It's Zelds that loves…” She paused and glanced at the ceiling, collecting herself. “Lov **ed** languages. She couldn’t get enough, learned as many as she could.” 

“Can we,” Ambrose started, fiddling with the corner of the paper. “Can we keep the subscriptions? I’ll learn to read them. Every one.” His eyes were shining when he lifted them to look at their aunt. 

Hilda gave him a tremulous smile in return and nodded. “I think we can manage that.” 

“I can learn with you,” Sabrina offered. Thinking it would be nice to help continue some part of Zelda’s morning routine together. Ambrose scoffed and pushed away from the table, still not making eye contact with her. “Ambrose, please talk to me. I—” 

He rounded on her then, looking at her directly for the first time since Zelda had died. “No, coz. I said, I asked why you had to **insist** that the universe grant you special privileges. But you went through with your plan anyway. You upset the natural order…” He looked at her, pain radiating in his voice and eyes. “And Aunt Zelda paid the price. Blackwood was right, Aunt Zelda is dead because of you.” He stalked away from her, snatching the paper from the table as he retreated upstairs. 

He might as well have slapped her. Sabrina sat there, stunned by Ambrose’s fiery outburst, unable to think of a retort. Not that there really was one—he and Blackwood were right. Sabrina jumped when Aunt Hilda placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, she hadn’t noticed her aunt approaching. 

“Now love, he’s just upset. He doesn’t—” She began to try and brush away the hurtful comments, but Sabrina shrugged off Aunt Hilda’s hand, not feeling as though she deserved the comfort, and fled to her room as well. 

Upon entering her room, though, Sabrina froze. Having been about to fling herself onto the bed for a fresh round of sobbing, she noticed a photo album and letter propped against her pillows. The album had the same cover of the book Salem had been trying to draw her attention to the night before. 

Sabrina hadn’t paid it any mind then, too caught up in guilt and grief to process that the items hadn’t been on her bed before she left. But now, here they were again, and she certainly hadn’t picked them up from where she’d carelessly dumped them on the floor. 

Creeping forward, Sabrina noticed her name penned on the front of the envelope—and had she not recognized the handwriting she would’ve gone tearing down the stairs to alert Aunt Hilda. Instead, she seized the letter and all but ripped it open. 

_My dear, sweet, brave and wonderful girl,_

And Sabrina caught a sob, covering her mouth with her hand and slumping onto the bed. It couldn’t, how was this possible? The letter was from Aunt Zelda.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I intended there to be more in this chapter, but it was getting really, really, long. So, I had to break it up and this was the best place to stop. On the plus side, the next chapter should hopefully be up really soon.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, holidays got busy and this didn't get posted quite as quickly as I thought. Hope you had a good holiday, enjoy!

After the reality sunk in a little further, that this was indeed a letter from Aunt Zelda, Sabrina started to read from the beginning again. 

_My dear, sweet, brave and wonderful girl,_

_If you’re reading this, it means I’m gone. I can only hope it was doing something that made you and the others proud. That it kept you all safe. It would be a pity if I died for nothing._

And Sabrina shuddered. She could hear Zelda’s voice reading this to her, could feel her aunt’s presence—sitting there on the bed next to her, smoothing her hair back and tucking it behind her ear like when she was small, a comforting hand on her back. She could also imagine how irritated Aunt Zelda would be in the afterlife if her death was caused by something she deemed ridiculous. If nothing else, at least she would be content with the way she died, taken by the Dark Lord himself and not by some illness or mediocre witch. Refocusing, Sabrina turned back to the letter. 

_I love you._

_I know this all comes too late. Words that should have been said repeatedly over the years. But you know me, I was never good with soft words and expressing emotions—I left that to Hilda, she was always so much better at it. Even writing this letter… Well, anyway, I’d always tried to express myself and my love through actions instead—those came somewhat easier._

_Though I know I was hard on you recently. It was only because I was trying to protect you. I knew how much potential you had when you were just a baby, and when you first came into your powers it was easy to sense how powerful you would become. That you would one day match or even surpass me in strength—once you had a few decades and some training under your belt. And it was one of the many things that made me feel immense pride that you were my niece._

_But that kind of power attracts danger—as you’ve come to know. And I knew that by getting you to sign the Book of the Beasts you would be welcomed fully into the coven’s protection. That Hilda and I wouldn’t be the only ones watching over you, protecting you._

_I was also trying to protect you…and myself from something else. Your attachment to the mortal realm. I saw you struggling with leaving your mortal life behind and I perhaps pushed too hard in stating you wouldn’t miss it any longer once you’d signed. If anything, I think that scared you more—for that I am sorry. But I was trying to protect myself too, you see._

_I was afraid of losing you to the mortal world. As I had lost your father. I should have talked to you about it, about my motives, my fears. But again, such vulnerability was incredibly difficult for me to show—I’d had to be strong for so long I didn’t quite know how to be anything else. I’m sorry for that. Perhaps things would have turned out differently had I done more._

More tears flooded Sabrina’s eyes, her aunt was trying to take all the blame. Just as she’d taken the punishment, just as she’d taken on everything, it appeared. Sabrina knew the truth, though, that Zelda hardly held all the blame. But that was something to dwell on later, she was eager to keep reading. 

_I never imagined our time would be so short. I thought I’d have more. More time to teach you, guide you. More time to love you. To say and not just show, in my own stunted way, how much you mean to me._

_Whatever death has taken me, I know that it was my choice to accept it. And that it was not, and never will be, your fault—though I’m sure you’re finding some way to make it so._

_This was my choice. **Mine.** _

_And I would make it over and over again to save you, Ambrose and Hilda. I love you so much my sweet girl. I wouldn’t trade anything in all the realms for the chance to raise you._

_I know that you don’t feel the same, and I understand. But I always thought of you as my daughter. I wished you were mine, on so many occasions. But perhaps it was best that you were not. You’re so much braver than I ever was. So much kinder. I can only hope to lay claim to a small part of the amazing young witch you have become._

_A young witch who is kind, smart and fights fiercely for her freedom, her friends and her family. You have such a strong sense of what is right, such a clear view of the world—I envied that clarity. But I’d lived long enough, seen and done enough to know that the realms are never as black and white as we often all wish they were. I just hope that you hold onto that sense of justice, that sense of right and wrong for a little longer even after the events that led to this letter. You are still too young to be jaded. Though never too young to learn lessons from everything—including this._

_You are a Spellman, Sabrina. And as you so aptly put it before the Feast of Feasts, we are an endangered species. I know that you are strong, powerful and clever—capable of handling countless situations. But you are also recklessly impulsive._

_And, as much as I know you’ll hate to hear it, you’re still a child._

_Please do not continue to throw yourself into ever increasingly dangerous situations. If not for the sake of my memory, then for Hilda and Ambrose. They need you, and you them._

_And I need. Need you to live a long, happy and fulfilling life. Too many Spellmans have died young. **Don’t you dare become another one.** _

A watery laugh escaped Sabrina, her aunt threatening her, even in death. It made her miss Zelda even more. 

_I’ve known for some time that my life would soon be coming to a violent end. I’m wasn’t sure how, or why I’d been made aware. Perhaps it was simply a needlessly cruel and vague premonition to taunt me. Regardless, it allowed me to prepare for the inevitable. I’ve compiled my photographs and memories for you all. They’ve always been my most prized possessions, I held these most dearly. I hope you will do the same._

_Stay strong, brave and kind, my sweet girl. And be the type of woman and witch that when your feet hit the ground each morning, the Devil shivers and thinks, ‘oh shit, she’s up.'_

_Know that I love you. Always. Auntie Zee_

Sabrina carefully set the letter aside, casting a protection spell on the pages as she did, before eagerly snatching the album off the bed and opening it to the first page. Pictures she’d never seen, or even thought to ask existed, filled the pages—each neatly labeled with Sabrina’s age. There were countless pictures, but certain ones jumped out at her: 

**1 day**

Aunt Zelda holding her as a newborn, a brilliant smile unfurling on her lips, oblivious to her surroundings and the fact that her picture was being taken. All her focus on the tiny bundle that had been Sabrina. 

**3 months**

Zelda stood alone, pale faced and stoic, in a misty cemetery clasping an infant Sabrina to her chest as she stared at a headstone that Sabrina could only assume belonged to her parents. 

**7 months**

Zelda in the parlor in front of a lit fire. She was reading a book, one foot pressed against the side of Sabrina’s bassinet mid-rock. Vinegar Tom curled up inside the thing, wrapping around a sleeping Sabrina. 

**2 years**

Aunt Zelda reclined on the parlor sofa, asleep. Her heels in a heap on the floor, toys scattered around them. One of her arms had slipped off the couch and was dangling in the air, while the other securely anchored a sleeping Sabrina in place where she was sprawled on top of Zelda’s chest. 

**3 years**

A cake covered Sabrina grinning and reaching for the camera with Aunt Zelda and Hilda on either side of her high chair—each with icing smeared on their person but wide smiles on their faces. 

**3 ½ years**

Sabrina playing in a baby pool in the garden, Aunt Zelda keeping watch from the chair positioned next to the pool. Her feet resting in the water, tanning board forgotten on her lap as she reached for whatever toy Sabrina was holding out to show her. 

**4 years**

Zelda sitting on the floor in the parlor, a wry smile on her face and a cup of tea resting in her lap as she leaned back against the couch where Sabrina was kneeling; her tongue stuck out in concentration as she attempted to braid her aunt’s hair. 

**4 ½ years**

Sabrina was crawling onto Zelda’s bed, a red and glittery card held aloft in one hand. Aunt Zelda welcoming her happily onto the bed, a shy smile on her lips and eyes shining even in the picture. 

A vague memory of approaching Aunt Hilda for help making the card surfaced in Sabrina’s mind, Hilda had sniffled happily and fetched the glitter. When Sabrina had proudly presented the card to Zelda, her aunt had cupped her cheek and thanked her with a tight hug. 

Sabrina remembered that had been the only year she’d ever made a Mother’s Day card—at preschool the next day, when sharing what they’d done for the holiday, Sabrina had happily talked about how she’d spent the day with her Aunt Zelda. The teacher had been kind enough, but several other students were quick to point out that Sabrina shouldn’t have done that, that Zelda wasn’t her mom. Upset and embarrassed by the teasing, Sabrina had rushed inside after being picked up and snatched the card from Zelda’s bedside table and torn it to shreds. Shouting tearfully and demanding to know why Zelda hadn’t told her that she shouldn’t have made the card, because Zelda wasn’t her mother and only mothers got things on Mother’s Day. 

Only in hindsight did Sabrina remember the tear or two that slid down her aunt’s cheek as she comforted Sabrina and apologized. Apologized. It was the first time Sabrina hurtfully declared that Zelda wasn’t her mother and after reading the letter she understood how deeply she must have hurt her aunt with those exact words on both occasions. 

Swallowing hard, Sabrina flipped to another page with less painful memories. 

**5 years**

Sabrina perched on Zelda’s lap at the kitchen table, Zelda’s morning paper flattened in front of them. Her aunt had been reading sections out loud to her in whatever language was printed on the paper, Sabrina giggling at the foreign sounds. 

**5 years**

The two of them bundled up, ridiculously so—Sabrina recalled how Aunt Zelda insisted on the extra layers despite the warming charms she’d placed on the clothing being more than enough. They were making snow devils in the backyard. Zelda was smiling widely as she lifted Sabrina up to add an icicle horn to one, Sabrina’s own face screwed up in concentration trying to get the placement just right. 

**6 years**

They were on the floor, Sabrina was settled between Zelda’s legs so that they could paint one another’s toe nails at the same time. Zelda was wearing jeans and a silky blouse, her hair in a messy braid—evidence that she’d let Sabrina play with it again. It was rare to see her aunt in anything other than her vintage dresses, but Sabrina smiled tearfully at the picture. Remembering how Zelda had allowed her to paint her toes bubble gum pink, because that’s the color Sabrina wanted on hers and they simply had to match. 

**7 years**

Sabrina stood on stage for her first solo performance at school, Aunt Zelda had helped her practice for weeks. In the corner of the photo Zelda stood, hands clasped and glowing with pride as she watched her niece. 

**8 years**

She and Aunt Zelda were giving Vinegar Tom a bath he most certainly didn’t want but needed after getting in a tussle with a skunk. They were grinning, partially turned away and trying to shield themselves as Tom chose that exact moment to shake himself dry. 

**8 years**

Sabrina peeked her head around her aunt’s morning paper, Aunt Zelda trying not to smile and failing. 

**9 years**

Zelda watched apprehensively as Ambrose taught Sabrina fly on her first broom stick. 

**10 years**

The two of them stood over a cauldron, heads bent together to look at whatever Zelda was pointing at, her other hand resting on Sabrina’s shoulder. 

**10 ½ years**

They’re at a bowling alley, Sabrina wanting to desperately have her birthday party there. Aunt Hilda had captured the exact moment when Zelda realized she couldn’t wear the ankle boots she’d paired with her jeans that day. Sabrina was laughing off to the side, while Zelda frowned in distaste at the pair of bowling shoes in her hand. 

**11 years**

Aunt Zelda looking slightly regretful in her Santa hat sandwiched on the couch between Hilda in a matching hat, Ambrose wearing reindeer antlers and Sabrina in an elf costume. It’d been the only year they’d been able to talk her into wearing a hat. 

**12 years**

Sabrina and Zelda curled up on the couch, a blanket thrown over their laps, rapt attention on the horror movie on the TV that provided the only light in the room. Their hands were frozen halfway to their mouths, fists full of popcorn. 

**13 years**

Zelda teaching her how to apply lipstick, their backs to the camera but their faces captured in the mirror’s reflection. 

**14 years**

Sabrina getting ready for her first dance with Roz and Susie. Aunt Zelda was doing her hair, bobby pins stuck in her mouth, while Aunt Hilda knelt on the floor adjusting the hem of her dress, smiling up at the two of them. 

**15 years**

Sabrina bounding off somewhere, identifiable only by her red coat and blonde hair, hand raised in goodbye. Aunt Zelda was in the foreground of the picture, back to the camera, one hand raised in return while the other gripped the porch railing. 

Sabrina couldn’t help but notice that as the years progressed, there were fewer and fewer pictures. And she realized that it was because she’d started to pull away from Aunt Zelda. They’d started to differ in opinion. Sabrina had wanted to spend more time with her mortal friends, while Zelda had tried to integrate her more into the witching realm. More tears arrived when she reached the end of the album. The last picture was of Sabrina blowing out the candles of her 16th birthday cake, Zelda smiling proudly in the background—even if she seemed a little stressed. 

That was it. That was the last picture she had with Aunt Zelda. All because she’d denied her dark baptism, had defied the Dark Lord at every given chance and had forced her aunt to pick between her and the church over and over. Not that Zelda ever made it seem like there was any competition, she’d sided with Sabrina repeatedly—about the harrowing, the exorcism, the feast of feasts. The only time Zelda hadn’t sided with her was on the resurrection and for good reason. 

Sabrina wasn’t sure why her aunt had hoarded these photos where no one else could see them. Why she felt the need to stash away the evidence that she loved her family, but the revelation of it had loud, ugly sobs wracking her body. 

Moments later Aunt Hilda burst into the room, her rolling pin held aloft—she always baked when upset. “Where is it?!” She demanded, searching the room for some threat—understandably, Sabrina had never made that kind of noise before, a logical explanation for it would be some kind of demon. 

“I killed Aunt Zelda!” She wailed instead, hugging the album tightly to her chest. 

Fresh tears rolled down Hilda’s face. “Oh, no, sweetie…” she murmured, setting the rolling pin on the dresser and joining Sabrina on the bed. “You didn’t kill her.” Hilda pulled Sabrina into a hug and rocked gently. 

It was minutes later, when Hilda disengaged to hand Sabrina a tissue that she noticed what her niece had been cradling. 

“So, she did leave each of us one.” She touched the book gently where it still sat in Sabrina’s arms, “oh, Zelds, always hiding that she was sentimental.” 

“She left you one too? Can I see it?” Sabrina asked, desperate for more evidence that Zelda had lived and breathed, that she wasn’t really gone. Hilda hesitated, and Sabrina realized that perhaps she had overstepped, that maybe Hilda wanted to keep of piece of her sister to herself. But, after a moment, Hilda gave in, waving her hand so that her album landed on the bed with a muted thump, her letter was tucked inside the cover. 

Sabrina couldn’t help but notice that both were much bigger and longer than hers, and a spike of jealousy shot through her. Before she could open the album though, Hilda plucked the letter from the pages and tucked it inside her cardigan. Sabrina ducked her head, suddenly guilty over the jealousy she’d felt about the size of the gifts Aunt Zelda had left Hilda. And guilt over how she’d asked to see the album, she understood the desire to keep something of Zelda to herself. 

But this feeling wasn’t strong enough to override her need to see more of Zelda, to see what she’d left behind. When she opened to the first page however, it wasn’t a photograph but a colored sketch that took up the whole page. The sketch depicted two young girls, Aunt Zelda, easily identifiable by her red curls, was holding a baby Hilda. That was when Sabrina realized that her aunt’s album was so much thicker because it contained documentation from her entire life—she often forgot that her aunts were actually over two centuries old. Formal family portraits in stiff attire soon followed the sketches. 

“I never realized she kept all of these,” Hilda murmured, peering over Sabrina’s shoulder. “Cameras had just been recently invented when we were little. They weren’t widely available or used, so my parents still commissioned artists to do these portraits. Satan, how we all hated standing for these damned things.” She added tearfully, fingers glossing over the pages. 

Every now and then a picture would be interspersed with these handcrafted items. But they were imperfect…as if it was a still shot pulled from a dream, a slightly hazy filter covering the image. These imperfect pictures portrayed the Spellman siblings at play, sneaking around stables and curled up by a fire as their mother appeared to be reading aloud from a book nearby. There was another picture of what appeared to be a Cain pit score board—tracking which sibling had taken out the others the most and which had been killed the fewest times. It appeared as though Zelda and her father went after one another the most, clearly the more competitive of the siblings. Sabrina smiled at this, and at how Hilda’s name had no marks; having made no attempts to kill any of her siblings. 

“Aunt Hilda, are the pictures like this because of the film back then?” She asked, when more hazily developed pictures filled the next page. But that didn’t seem right, because there were photos like that in her own album. 

Sniffing, Hilda shook her head and explained. “Your clever Aunt Zelda found a way to make memories into photos. She managed to enter her own memories, viewing them as a third party and capture the moment in this form. I can think of no other way she would have images of these.” Hilda paused and laughed wetly, “she was quite extraordinary.” 

All Sabrina could do was nod. Extraordinary didn’t seem to do Aunt Zelda justice. Wanting more, Sabrina continued to thumb through Aunt Hilda’s pictures, and as she did, she couldn’t help but notice how freely Zelda had smiled and laughed. How often she seemed to be captured mid-laugh, her arms thrown affectionately around her siblings. 

There were pictures of the four in countless countries; riding bicycles along cobbled streets in England, eating pastries in France, dancing in flowing dresses and striking suits in Spain, dusty, but grinning as they rode camels in Egypt. Sabrina pushed several tears back, there was so much about Zelda that she hadn’t bothered to learn. She vowed not to make the same mistake with Aunt Hilda. 

As the years and pages passed, though, Sabrina realized that Aunt Zelda’s carefree personality faded as the number of people in the family pictures decreased. First it was the grandparents she’d never known, then Thomas—Ambrose’s father. When Sabrina reached the point that her dad had disappeared from the pictures, Aunt Zelda’s smile had disappeared almost completely as well. 

Zelda had lost parts of herself with each family member that had died, Sabrina remembered what Aunt Hilda had said the night before when she’d thought she was alone. Sabrina glanced at Hilda, wondering what would happen to her now that Zelda was gone. Would she lose her smile at last as well? Would she stop being the cheerful, optimistic and warm woman Sabrina had grown up with? 

The thought chilled her, and Sabrina found that she didn’t want to look at any more pictures. Carefully closing the tomb of an album, Sabrina turned to her remaining aunt. 

“Did, did you feel her, Aunt Zee, when you were reading your letter?” She looked at Aunt Hilda, hoping it was true and she hadn’t just manifested the experience out of desperation and guilt. “It was like she was here with me, reading the words out loud. I felt her here. She tucked my hair back, like when I was little.” 

Hilda gave her a small smile and took the photo album back, “I did, love. It was like she was sitting next to me, resting her head on my shoulder.” 

“Same.” Ambrose supplied from the doorway, startling them. “Only, only her arm was around my shoulders.” He gave Sabrina a rueful look, and she knew he’d come down from the attic to apologize to her but the conversation with Hilda had taken precedence. 

Then, something lit up inside Sabrina and she quickly grabbed the letter Aunt Zelda had left her once more, scanning it. “Did Auntie Zee mention in her letters to you that she knew something was coming? That she felt she’d die soon and that’s why she did all this?” 

Ambrose entered the room a little further, “something along those lines, yes.” 

Sabrina stood off the bed and started to pace excitedly, “what if, what if she imbued parts of herself into the letters? Into the memory photos? And that’s why we felt her! What if she planned for this and found a way to come back?”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for all the comments and kudos, they are the fuel that keeps this particular fanfic writer going. Hope you enjoy.

Her words hung in the air. Ambrose seemed to be considering them. But Aunt Hilda was reaching towards her, a sad look in her eyes. 

“Sabrina, love, I know you want her back. We all do, but—” She hedged, only to be interrupted by the front door crashing open downstairs, causing them all to jump. 

“Who did this?!” Came a roar. And they all exchanged looks before hurrying to the top of the stairs. 

Blackwood had barged into the house, his clothes rumpled, shirt untucked, one suspender hung uselessly at his side and his hair had fallen into his face from its usual slicked back position. He was waving an envelope in the air, a photo album clutched in the other. 

“What cruel trick,” he stumbled and the only reason he didn’t fall to the ground was the small side table by the door that he managed to half land on. Sabrina’s eyes widened with stunned realization…he was drunk, and it was only a little past 9 in the morning. 

Hilda brushed past her and Ambrose, “Faustus,” she cautioned, and Sabrina looked at her in shock. She’d never heard Aunt Hilda use Blackwood’s first name before. 

Blackwood didn’t seem to hear her, he kept rambling as he lifted himself from the table and continued to make his way inside. “Who would leave this letter? These pictures? Why torture me with her memory? She’s dead! And I, I couldn’t save her.” The last statement came out as a miserable howl and Blackwood collapsed to the ground, the letter and album sliding across the floor, pictures spilling from the pages. 

Sabrina ignored the grieving man where he lay, shaking with sobs and rushed to grab the pictures—still hungry for more of her aunt’s life. There weren’t as many…the history of Zelda’s time with Blackwood less documented; most of the pictures had the memory haze quality to them. 

The photos showed a young Zelda and Blackwood at the Academy of Unseen Arts. The two of them sitting close on a park bench, holding hands, attention on something off to the side. Swimming in the pond by the academy with friends, though they only had eyes for one another. They were dueling in one of the classrooms, the other students out of focus in the background, the two of them so clear that Sabrina could see how bright their eyes were with excitement and mischief, determined to win the challenge. 

She picked up more, eagerly taking in the young woman in the images that had been her aunt. The duo was huddled in a corner of the library, chairs pressed against one another, their heads bent over some ancient text. Flying on brooms, Blackwood looking a little unsure and clutching the handle while Zelda was several feet higher, head tipped back in laughter and abandon. A selfie, a close up of Blackwood kissing her aunt’s cheek, Zelda beaming, practically glowing. On a beach, Zelda was burying Blackwood in the sand. In the Spellman garden, Zelda’s head tilted to soak in the sun while her fingers carded through Blackwood’s hair where his head rested in her lap. 

Blackwood down on one knee, Aunt Zelda’s hand coming up to cover a wide smile. Sabrina paused at this one, glancing at the crumpled figure on the floor that Hilda was trying to console. He’d proposed? What, what? Confused, Sabrina searched for more pictures from their youth, but none appeared to occur after that moment. There was just a time jump. 

Her aunt and the high priest went from teens and early 20s to adults in a page. Something had happened in between. Between what appeared to be a proposal and now. And Sabrina knew she’d never learn what had driven them away from one another—nor what had brought them back together. Just another thing about Zelda that she would never know. 

The next pages were all from within the past few months. The two of them on the couch in Blackwood’s office, grading papers, Zelda’s legs draped over his lap. Blackwood cooking, holding a spoon out for her to sample from where she’d perched on the counter next to the stove—she was in jeans and what appeared to be one of Blackwood’s shirts, her hair completely loose and unstyled. A close up of Blackwood kissing her aunt’s forehead, his hand buried in her hair. The two of them sleeping in bed, fully clothed thank Satan, Blackwood was wrapped tightly around Zelda as if afraid she’d disappear. On some couch in his house, she was molded into his side, his arm draped over her as they read the paper Zelda was holding together. 

The last one was of Zelda teaching a class at the academy. He’d apparently snuck in the back and was watching her, a soft smile on his face. His presence hadn’t gone unnoticed, Zelda’s eyes were glancing at him in the picture, a ghost of a smile etched on her lips. 

Sabrina blinked back tears, she’d never seen Aunt Zelda like that, so relaxed, calm, open. At least, not that she could immediately remember. The taut stress lines that had so frequently been present these past weeks all she could recall. Maybe, maybe it was because with Blackwood, Zelda didn’t have to be the strong one… she could just be herself. And Sabrina felt another pang of jealously, that Blackwood of all people got to have a version of her aunt that she didn’t. Her hand crept to where the letter had fallen, beyond caring about personal boundaries and privacy—she wanted to know what Aunt Zelda had written to the high priest. 

His wailing brought her back to the moment, and a glare from Hilda had her snatching her hand back from the letter. 

“I felt her, when I read the letter. It was as if she was physically there, really pressed against my back, arms looped around my neck, her chin resting on my shoulder. And those pictures of us together, how did she?” Blackwood gestured wildly to where the offending items lay on the floor and in Sabrina’s lap. 

At this Ambrose descended the final steps as well, interrupting Blackwood. “You felt her too?” He demanded, when Blackwood nodded, Ambrose smiled for the first time since they’d been summoned to the church. “Auntie, maybe Sabrina is right. If Aunt Zee saw this coming, don’t you think she’d try and fight it? To stay with us? Maybe she imbued pieces of herself in the letters, the photos she created. We have her body, maybe these,” he picked up a few of the pictures still scattered on the ground and brandished them carefully. “Maybe these contain her soul.” 

Hilda looked between the three anxious and hopeful faces, all desperate to have Zelda back and wished she could feel the same. But her sister had charged her with keeping the kids safe and alive. And the last resurrection was what had led to Zelda’s death to begin with. 

Sighing, Hilda shook her head. “Absolutely not. It hasn’t even been 24 hours and you lot want to risk more necromancy and a resurrection. Well, let me tell you, I don’t want to have to volunteer to die to pay the price for this one—my death won’t be _nearly_ as quick as Zelda’s. No.” 

Sabrina stood up, “it wouldn’t be a resurrection, not really.” She countered, “if Aunt Zee cast a spell to trap her soul in these instead of letting it go to Hell…” 

“It could work.” Father Blackwood murmured, hoisting himself back up, thinking hard. Or maybe he was just trying not to fall over again, Sabrina couldn’t be sure. 

Aunt Hilda turned her gaze on Blackwood. “Have you taken leave of all your senses? Actually considering, encouraging this! You might not have anything left to lose, but **I do.** You need to leave.” She started to usher the warlock out the door. 

Ambrose hurried forward, “but auntie, he could help—” 

“I said no.” Her voice steely. “Do you believe that I don’t want Zelda back?! I want her back **more** than any of you can imagine. She’s, she’s my sister.” Hilda’s voice cracked a little, but she carried on without pausing. “Been by my side for over 200 years. She was the _only_ sibling I had left.” She wiped her cheeks fiercely, voice hardening once more. “But she’d murder me for real, no Cain pit, if I endangered you to try and bring her back. And can you imagine, after the Dark Lord offs me too in punishment for our _failed attempt_ , an eternity in Hell listening to Zelda yell at me for leaving you lot to your own devices? No one to protect you? **No.** ” 

“But Aunt Zelda planned for this, she—” Sabrina and Ambrose both started to argue. 

Hilda held up a hand, silencing them. “She had a vague premonition of her death, yes. And she prepared for it to the best of her ability—though she could have shared with me.” Hilda added the last part under her breath. “But, had she known that the Dark Lord himself would be the one to kill her, had she known… She never would have left us this chance. Zelda would have known that trying to reverse what the Dark Lord did would bring further chaos and pain. No,” Hilda shuddered, but maintained firm eye contact. “Your Aunt Zelda was many things, but willing to put her family at risk, especially for her own sake, was certainly not one of them.” 

Sabrina frowned as Hilda all but pushed Blackwood out the front door, a wave of her hand collecting his letter and pictures into a neat pile which she shoved into his arms as she shut the door. Maybe they wouldn’t need Aunt Hilda’s help bringing Zelda back. If she and Ambrose gathered all the letters and memory pictures, if they had the high priest helping them—albeit a sober one, the odds began to tip in their favor. 

Though, the last time she’d tried to bring someone back from the dead without her aunts, it had cost her one. But this was different, Aunt Zelda’s soul wasn’t in Hell, it was here. And Sabrina wouldn’t be alone this time, Ambrose and she was mostly sure Blackwood, would help her. 

She also refused to believe that Zelda would just leave them, no matter the circumstances. Refused to believe that she wouldn’t have back-up plan upon back-up plan in place to ensure that she was there for her family. Even as Sabrina thought this, some of Aunt Zelda’s final words replayed in her head. That they didn’t really need her, hadn’t for years. 

Aunt Zelda hadn’t really believed that, had she? Sabrina’s gut twisted at the notion. Just another reason to bring her back. So that Sabrina could make up for that, make up for the awful words that had spewed from her before her trip to limbo, make up for everything. 

Hilda speaking broke through Sabrina’s thoughts. “Now, I have lived with both of you long enough to know that you still want to try and bring Zelda back. I _need_ you to promise me. _Promise_ that you will not upset the balance even further. Do not make Zelda’s sacrifice be for nothing. She died so that we could live, don’t take away the most valuable gift she could have given us—her life.” Hilda looked at them expectantly, and Sabrina shared a look with her cousin. 

“We promise…” they muttered in defeated voices. 

Their aunt narrowed her eyes for a moment, assessing them. But, appearing satisfied with their promise, she headed back to the mortuary office. Stating that there was a lot of planning to do for the funeral. Once she was out of sight Ambrose jerked his head towards the stairs and it took everything in them not to sprint up to the attic. 

“So, we’re bringing Aunt Zee back, right?” Sabrina demanded quietly, once the door was shut and Ambrose had cast a silencing spell around the room. 

“Absolutely.” He replied, already moving around the room and grabbing books off the shelves. “It won’t be like a normal resurrection,” he explained, handing Sabrina a pile of books. “I believe you’re right, Aunt Zelda trapped her soul in the letters, the pictures, to prevent it from going to Hell. That means we don’t have to make a sacrifice to get her back. No soul needs to be traded because hers isn’t there.” 

Sabrina nodded, grateful that Ambrose seemed to have a plan, because aside from figuring out Aunt Zelda had diverted her soul so that she could be brought back, Sabrina didn’t have much of an idea on how to free her aunt’s soul to get it back to her body. Ambrose kept talking, grabbing more books and materials, opening jars and sniffing the contents before handing it to Sabrina as well or tossing it aside. 

She shifted, trying to balance everything Ambrose was giving her. “I think it’s safe to assume that Aunt Hilda won’t help us…” She stated, craning her neck around the tower of items in her arms. 

Ambrose laughed, “certainly safe, coz. What if we asked the woman who helped you with the exorcism? Warden?” 

Sabrina’s skin crawled, “Wardwell,” she corrected softly. “And I, I don’t want to get her involved in any way.” Ambrose paused as he reached for a scroll stuffed into the rafters and eyed her questioningly. “I, I think she’s been manipulating me this whole time.” Sabrina admitted, eyes downcast. “The timing of her revealing herself to be a witch, her ‘connection’ to my father…it’s, it’s too coincidental.” 

Dumping the contents in her arms on an empty chair, Sabrina slumped onto Ambrose’s bed. She looked up at him forlornly. “Wardwell was the one who suggested the resurrection in the first place, obscurely of course—in hindsight, I can tell she wanted me to think it was my idea to bring Tommy back. She ‘casually’ mentioned she had the _exact_ book needed for the ritual, and when it all went wrong… she offered to help me get Tommy’s soul back.” Shifting uncomfortably, Sabrina added, “I think she knew what would happen with Harvey, she wanted me broken.” 

Ambrose gazed her sympathetically and sat on the bed next to her. “Do you think she planned for Aunt Zelda…” He trailed off, unwilling to state out loud that Wardwell had plotted their aunt’s execution. 

“I’m not sure.” Sabrina answered truthfully, hoping that wasn’t the case. That the woman she’d seen as an ally hadn’t betrayed her in that way as well. That the entire time she’d smiled at and comforted Sabrina she’d been planning Zelda’s death. The thought sent a chill through her “it doesn’t matter now. I want **nothing** to do with her.” 

Her cousin nodded and stood back up to reach the scroll once more. “Then it’s just us and Blackwood.” 

Sabrina blinked, “Father Blackwood?” 

“What other Blackwood would I be talking about?” Ambrose quipped, tossing the scroll at her. “You saw how he reacted to Auntie Zee’s death, to the letter, to the possibility that we could bring her back. He’ll help, we just have to contact him via astral projecting to let him know the when and where.” 

“Alright. Tell me what to do.” Sabrina straightened her back. 

Ambrose grinned at her, “here’s the plan.” 

~~~~~~~~~~ 

It was witching hour, a little too on the nose, but they didn’t want to risk any mishaps. Sabrina had just finished lighting the final candle when Ambrose bustled back into the morgue, muttering to himself. 

Sabrina could feel the anxiety rolling off him, though some of it was surely hers as well. She reached out and touched his shoulder gently, causing him to jump. “Ambrose, it’ll work. We’ll get her back.” She tried to reassure him, tried to reassure herself. 

Ambrose sniffed and nodded, “yeah, we have to. Otherwise, I’m not sure what we’ll do.” He wandered off to grab a few more ingredients from the kitchen, taking his letter and book with him. Sabrina tried not to feel disappointed about not being able to look at the photos Zelda had left for Ambrose, but maybe once all this was over, he would show them to her. 

Just then Blackwood materialized in the morgue setting off the alarm and causing Sabrina to jump and curse under her breath. Blackwood froze, eyes flitting around the room as Sabrina murmured the counter spell and the alarm fell silent once more. 

“Aunt Hilda didn’t trust us,” she explained to Blackwood with a shrug, unable to be mad when her aunt’s suspicions were entirely valid. “She set an alert spell to go off if anyone came into the morgue.” 

Straightening, Blackwood removed his jacket and set it aside with his cane before rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt. “And has she just been notified of my presence and what we are doing down here?” 

“No, we, we made sure she’d sleep through the whole thing.” Sabrina replied, slightly guilty about it, but they’d needed Hilda’s letter and pictures and she certainly wouldn’t have given them up freely after their discovery. They also couldn’t risk her interfering with the ritual. 

Blackwood nodded satisfied with the answer and scanned the room, eyes coming to rest on where Aunt Zelda still laid on the exam table. Taking several long strides, he closed the distance between himself and the table. He lifted a hand and caressed Zelda’s cheek, burying the hand in her hair. 

“Soon, Zels,” he whispered, “we’ll have you back soon.” He pressed another kiss to her forehead and Sabrina averted her eyes, once more feeling like an intruder. How had she never noticed the intimacy, the closeness between the two? Though, to be fair, Aunt Zelda was an extremely private person. And Sabrina, well, she’d been too wrapped up in her own drama to notice the ongoings of her aunt’s life outside of where it collided with hers. 

Thankfully, Ambrose returned just then and began to run through the spell and ritual with them. It was lengthy and left no room for mistakes. Taking a collective breath, the three of them surrounded the table around Zelda and joined hands to begin. 

~~~~~~~~~ 

“Now what?” Sabrina asked anxiously when they finished, twisting her fingers and gazing at her still motionless aunt. 

Blackwood conjured three chairs and took a seat, immediately picking up his cane and fiddling with it. “We wait.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Lilith as a character, but Sabrina has got to figure out at some point that this woman is playing her like a fiddle.
> 
> Next chapter may be a little bit. I actually have 2 endings written and cannot decide which one to torture you all with.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sooo, the ending was longer than I thought, so I broke it up. Hope you don't mind that the story isn't done yet :)

Each of them sat absurdly erect in their chairs, watching Zelda intently for any sign of movement. They remained in their hypervigilant state until Ambrose coughed; causing Sabrina to almost fall out of her chair and Blackwood to grip his cane so tightly that it cracked ominously. 

Running a hand over his face, Blackwood broke the silence that had fallen over them since the ritual ended. “We need to take shifts. We can’t maintain this, it could take hours for her to wake—if she wakes at all. It won’t do if we all accidently sleep through her resurrection.” 

“She **will** wake up.” Sabrina corrected, glaring at Blackwood. But she knew he was just trying to prepare himself for the worst. For the possibility that their hope and efforts had been for nothing, that Aunt Zelda would remain dead, this time with no chance of some miracle resurrection. 

Ambrose sighed and propped his feet up on a supply box. “I’ll take first watch; Blackwood I’ll wake you in three hours. Then I’ll go check to make sure Aunt Hilda is still out before resting.” Sabrina wanted to argue, she didn’t want to take last watch. But she held her tongue, they were all exhausted and picking fights wouldn’t help anything. 

Nodding, she and Blackwood settled more comfortably into their chairs and attempted to rest. 

~~~~~~~~~

A thump startled Sabrina awake from the doze she’d managed. She glanced at Ambrose, who’s feet falling off the supply box had woken her. He was staring openmouthed at the table. Whipping her head to follow his gaze, Sabrina’s breath left her in a whoosh upon seeing Aunt Zelda.

She was sitting straight up, wide-eyed and silent, one hand clutching her throat and the other gripping the table so tightly her knuckles were white. All the trio could do was stare. Blackwood was the first to regain himself, on his feet and approaching the table before Sabrina could fully comprehend that the ritual might have worked. But Aunt Zelda needed to say something, anything, for them to know if she was completely restored; Sabrina knew that now.

“Lucifer, what have you done?” A horrified croak emanated from Zelda, her hand still running along her neck in search of the wound that was no longer there. The tension drained from Sabrina and she sagged in the chair in relief, hardly registering the words just elated that there were words at all. 

“Zels,” Blackwood exhaled before kissing her soundly. Zelda, though stunned, responded in kind. Sabrina and Ambrose turned their heads and coughed awkwardly when the kiss drew on. The high priest finally broke the contact and the widest, most genuine smile Sabrina had ever seen bloomed on his face. “You’re back.” He murmured in awe, hands now running lightly over Zelda as if to reassure himself of the fact that she was alive. 

Aunt Zelda shook her head, as if coming back to herself, “what have you done?” She repeated, panic creeping into her features and tone. She brushed away Blackwood’s hands and leveraged herself off the table, if a little clumsily. 

Before Zelda could say anything else, Sabrina shot out of her chair and, sobbing, pushed Blackwood aside to all but tackled her aunt in a hug. Zelda staggered back at the impact, but her arms came up automatically to greet Sabrina. “I’m _so sorry_ Auntie Zelda. I love you so much. I never meant any of the horrible things I said. I’m sorry, I love you.” The words tumbled out of Sabrina’s mouth in a rush, she had to make sure Aunt Zelda understood, refusing to miss another opportunity to tell her aunt how she felt. 

Ambrose joined the hug, a little less aggressively, before Aunt Zelda could respond, nudging Sabrina to the side so that Aunt Zelda could wrap an arm around each of them as they clung to her. “I’m so glad you’re back.” He breathed, resting his chin on their aunt’s shoulder. 

They only pulled back slightly when they heard a sniff. Zelda was fighting tears, a trembling smile on her lips. “I love you both _so_ much,” she replied, kissing each of their heads. “But you’ve made a grave mistake in bringing me back.” 

Sabrina and Ambrose began to argue at the same time, “but you’re the one who left—” 

“I know.” Aunt Zelda cut in, “but I hadn’t planned on the Dark Lord himself being the one to claim my life. That complicates… where’s Hilda?” She suddenly interrupted herself, glancing around the room for her sister. 

Ducking his head sheepishly, Ambrose replied. “We may, we may have dosed her tea with foxglove so that we could take her pictures and letter to perform the ritual. She didn’t want to risk bringing you back.” 

“So, at least **one** of you had sense.” Zelda noted, stepping away from them and starting to pace, running her hands through her hair. “I’d have thought at least you’d know better.” She threw at Blackwood, who shrugged and just kept smiling at her—as if nothing could faze him now that she was alive once more. Sabrina didn’t miss how pale and jittery Aunt Zelda was, but she couldn’t be sure if it was due to being brought back from the dead or from the stress concerning the possible consequences of her resurrection. “Have you all learned _nothing_ from recent events?!” Zelda hissed, halting her pacing to brace her hands on the exam table. 

Sabrina frowned, she understood why Aunt Zelda was upset, but she’d expected at least some gratitude for restoring Zelda back to the living realm. “Auntie…” she began, but Zelda wasn’t listening, she’d resumed her pacing. 

“He won’t be satisfied with just my death this time. But maybe, maybe He hasn’t noticed I’m gone yet. It might not be too late. If I go back, it will be like nothing happened.” Her aunt seemed to be talking more to herself than anyone in particular, but that didn’t make her words any less alarming. 

“Go back!?” Sabrina exclaimed, Aunt Zelda couldn’t be serious. She turned to her cousin for confirmation that she’d understood that correctly and was met with his equally incredulous expression. 

Ambrose approached her again, taking slow steps. “But Auntie Zee, we didn’t upset the balance. No souls needed trading. We just resurrected—” 

“Yes, and you shouldn’t have. I am proud that you both were clever enough to deduce what I’d left behind. And I’m touched that you wanted to bring me back,” she smiled briefly at them, “but—” 

“Wanted to?” Sabrina blurted out, stunned, how did she _still_ not understand? “We **had** to. We couldn’t lose you, Aunt Zelda. Refused to. We need you, now and always. No matter what you think.” 

A lone tear managed to slip down Aunt Zelda’s cheek at her declaration. “Oh, my girl,” she whispered, tugged Sabrina back into a tight hug. “That is wonderful to hear, but I am afraid I have to leave.” Zelda released her and turned to Blackwood—who’s expression had soured quickly. “Faustus, I need you to—” 

“No.” 

“Faustus,” she exhaled softly, approaching him. 

Blackwood clenched his hands at his sides, face thunderous, “I won’t kill you.” His words had Sabrina sitting abruptly in one of the chairs, mind going blank at the implications. 

Zelda pressed her lips together and crept even closer to him. “I need you to, my love.” 

“Don’t you manipulate me with those words.” He gritted through his teeth. 

“I—” then Zelda smirked reluctantly. “I was trying to manipulate you,” she admitted, “but that doesn’t make the words any less true. I do love you. And if you love me like you said, you will do this for me. It is the _only_ way. Only way to keep them safe, and now you.” 

“Me?” Blackwood questioned, hands coming up almost on their own accord to rest on Aunt Zelda’s hips when she was within reach. 

Zelda touched his cheek, “you defied the Dark Lord by helping me return. My death will keep you safe as well. No punishment can be given if the evidence of the offense is gone, if I’m dead again.” 

“I don’t care about my safety,” he countered. “I care about you.” Blackwood tugged Zelda closer so that one arm could band around her back, while the other slid into her hair. Her aunt closed her eyes, a pained expression flitting across her face at Blackwood’s disregard for his own wellbeing. “I love you,” he stated firmly, as if trying to convince Zelda that that trumped all. 

Releasing a shaky sigh, Zelda gripped Blackwood’s suspenders as if they were lifelines. “Faustus, please. I’m not, I don’t think I’m strong enough…. Don’t make me do it myself,” she whispered. 

Ambrose overheard her though, “no! No one is killing you ever again, Aunt Zee, including you.” He looked horrified at the thought and Sabrina noticed that his hands were shaking slightly. Sabrina understood how he felt, waves of nausea were crashing through her. They hadn’t brought Aunt Zelda back only to force her to do this. 

Ignoring Ambrose, Aunt Zelda kept her eyes on Blackwood. “Faustus.” But the high priest shook his head adamantly and a sob escaped Zelda before she buried her face in the crook of his neck. Blackwood held Zelda close, arms encircling her as he whispered sentiments into her hair that Sabrina couldn’t catch. 

But her aunt’s actions, in addition to her words, shocked Sabrina. She’d never seen Aunt Zelda like this, even in her final moments she’d forced herself to keep it together. And now? Here she was, openly crying and seeking comfort. The rare time or two that Sabrina had seen Zelda cry her aunt had brushed away the errant tear and lied about the cause. Sabrina wasn't sure how to react to this vulnerable side of her aunt, and was immensely grateful that the high priest was there and taking the lead. 

Blackwood held onto Zelda tightly, his comforting words finally drifting over to where Sabrina was sitting. “We’ll find a way.” He vowed, pressing a kiss into Zelda’s hair. “I won’t lose you again. I won’t. Not when it took us centuries to get here. I refuse to let you die again and wait another century or two until I get to spend the afterlife with you. No, Zels. You aren’t going anywhere.” 

Zelda pulled back and wiped her tears, “I love you.” She repeated, kissing him briefly before breaking their contact completely. She then turned to Sabrina and Ambrose and the look in her eyes, one of regret and mourning had Sabrina standing in concern. “I love all of you. Which is why I _cannot_ let you risk yourselves for me. I have to repay the price.” 

And before any of them could react, she’d teleported away.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS for this chapter—mentions of self-harm.

They all stood gaping at one another for a moment. Then Blackwood picked up a specimen jar and threw it forcefully across the room with a violent, “fuck!” Before facing the wall and muttering to himself. 

Sabrina turned to Ambrose desperately, nearly hyperventilating, “we have to find her.” 

Her cousin just paced, hands in his hair. “How?” He finally looked at her and his expression was broken. What had they done? They hadn’t prepared for this possibility. That Aunt Zelda would not only consider this route as an option, but also see it as the only means of keeping them safe. They’d brought her back to life and now she was gone again, Satan knew where, to once more fix what Sabrina had done. 

“Father Blackwood,” Sabrina turned to the warlock, “surely you can summon her back here. You taught us about it in class, that you can teleport someone from another location to yours.” 

Blackwood slowly pivoted to face them, and Sabrina took an involuntary step back; the rage and pain palpable from where she stood several feet away. “What do you think I just tried?! **She’s blocking me!** ” He screamed, taking another jar and launching it at the wall, glass spraying in all directions 

Sabrina shook her head, “how’s that possible? I thought—” 

“Zelda is an incredibly powerful witch and she knew before she left that I would try and summon her back. With enough warning and power, a witch can resist and block a summoning spell. As you would have learned if you paid attention in class.” He snarled, approaching her. 

Before either she or Ambrose could decide what to do, Salem jumped into her arms and hissed at Blackwood—a warning to back off. The idea hit her like a train. “That’s it,” she whispered, looking at Salem. 

“What coz?” Ambrose questioned, stepping closer to her and keeping a wary eye on the high priest. 

“Where’s Vinegar Tom?” Sabrina demanded, placing Salem down and starting to search the morgue. 

Baffled, Ambrose turned his complete attention to her. “We locked him upstairs, so he wouldn’t get in the way. Why?” 

But she was already sprinting up the steps, explaining as she went, knowing that the others were right behind her. “We can use Tom to find Aunt Zelda.” 

“Of course,” she heard Blackwood mutter, but Ambrose only made a noise of confusion. 

“When I was attacked in the corn maze, Salem was here at the house. But he knew I was in danger and he found me. He _found_ me Ambrose, without any signal or communication coming from my end. Vinegar Tom should be able to find Aunt Zelda the same way, we just have to follow him as he goes.” Sabrina threw open her bedroom door and was almost bowled over by the bloodhound. 

Ambrose nodded, “alright then, let’s go!” 

“Wait!” Blackwood caught the dog’s collar to stop his sprint down the stairs and out of the house. 

Sabrina looked at him in exasperation, they’d just figured out how to reach Aunt Zelda, what was he doing? “We don’t have time to waste!” She argued, reaching for Vinegar Tom’s collar as well. 

Blackwood gave her an ugly look, “I’m aware! But I think we need Hilda. The three of us weren’t able to convince Zelda before, but perhaps her sister can.” 

Ambrose nodded quickly in agreement, “I’ll go wake her and we’ll be on our way.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Vinegar Tom bolted through the woods, shifting between his true form and dog form in his hurry to find Aunt Zelda. The rest of them struggled to keep up, but Aunt Hilda had cast a tracing spell on the familiar so that a path of faint light trailed the goblin as he went. 

Hilda hadn’t spoken a word since Ambrose had woken her. She’d gone rigid when they explained what they’d done, clearly livid. But she’d remained horribly silent, simply yanking on her boots and a coat before jerking her head at Vinegar Tom to be on his way; casting a silent spell as he took off. Sabrina wished that Aunt Hilda would yell, scream, rage and hex them for their actions. This silence was beyond unsettling and she wasn’t sure she could take it much longer. But Aunt Zelda’s familiar was slowing down and turned to look at Hilda before pointing towards a clearing a little further ahead. 

Slowing, the group proceeded much more quietly, Aunt Hilda and Blackwood pulling ahead. Sabrina was grateful, it had taken them at least 10 minutes to reach this spot, Aunt Zelda could have accomplished any number of things in that time. 

Twin exhales of relief drifted back when the adults entered the clearing and the tension that had gripped Sabrina this entire flight through the woods loosened, just a bit. Gathering her courage, Sabrina peeked around Blackwood where he’d stopped several yards back. Aunt Hilda continued to approach alone, very cautiously so as to not startle her sister. 

Aunt Zelda was kneeling in the middle of a hastily and crudely drawn pentagram, a knife held in her lap. She hadn’t noticed them yet, tears dripping slowly off her chin and onto the ground. “Come on, Zelda,” she muttered to herself. “You did it before. Died for them. You, you can do it again.” Zelda raised the knife and placed it on her wrist. She held it there with a shaking hand until a shuddering sob wracked through her body and she dropped the knife—a disgusted whisper of “useless, coward” accompanying the gesture. Wrapping her arms around her middle, Zelda curled into herself. 

“Zelda,” Hilda called out quietly when she was almost close enough to touch her. 

Head snapping up, Aunt Zelda’s hand scrambled for the knife and gripped it tightly once more. “Hilda?” She murmured, the most relieved and pained expression on her face when she made eye contact with her younger sister. 

Hilda knelt slowly, “oh, Zelds,” and the tenderness in her voice hurt Sabrina’s heart. 

“You came.” The words were uttered as if Hilda's presence was an answer to a prayer and a curse. 

“Of course, I did.” 

Zelda gulped and wiped her tears away with one hand, eyes flicking over to where the rest of them stood quietly. “It has to be done, Hilda. You know that as well as I.” She exclaimed in a tortured whisper, eyes returning to the witch in front of her. “But I can’t—,” Aunt Zelda pressed her lips together and looked at the sky, and Sabrina had never seen her aunt so broken. “I can’t do it. I tried, Hildie, but I couldn’t bring myself to…” 

It was then that Sabrina noticed the jagged red line running up Zelda’s arm, small drops of blood collecting along the cut and dripping onto her aunt’s skirt. Sabrina reached out and grabbed the nearest object, a tree, to steady herself—the world having spun at being confronted with what they had almost found in the clearing instead. 

“I tried,” Zelda’s voice helped Sabrina refocus, even if it sounded so small and so wrong coming from the fiery and relentless aunt Sabrina knew. “I tried to tell myself it was no different from flogging. That it was just another punishment. But it, it isn’t.” She confessed, once more making eye contact with Aunt Hilda. 

Sabrina gasped, digging her nails into the bark of the tree painfully, Aunt Zelda, she, she flogged herself? But she hardly had time to process the heartbreaking detail when Hilda carefully held out her hand. 

“Zelda, can I have the knife?” She asked softly, tone amazingly calm despite the situation and the fact that several tears had slid down her own cheeks. 

Shaking her head furiously, Zelda redoubled her hold on the utensil and lifted it a bit. Her eyes taking on a new, determined, if slightly manic, gleam. “I have to protect you. It’s my job.” 

Sabrina stepped around Ambrose and Blackwood to argue, but Hilda held up a hand to stop her advance. Her eyes still on Zelda, the other hand still outstretched for the knife. “Zelds, you did your job. You did.” Hilda nodded encouragingly, “and you went far beyond what was ever expected of you. You gave us literally everything. We aren’t asking you to do that again. We **never** would’ve asked that of you the first time.” 

“Edward—” Aunt Zelda began to argue, more tears trekking down her cheeks, but the knife had lowered a little. 

Hilda’s eyes flashed dangerously. “If he asked this of you, I will go to Hell myself and bring him back just to kill him again.” 

A watery laugh escaped Zelda, “you couldn’t even kill one of us when we had the Cain pit competitions.” She reminded her sister teasingly. 

“This is different. When? Did he, did he… Zelda, what did he ask of you?” 

“Right after her first dark baptism, he asked me, as Sabrina’s Night Mother, to protect Sabrina—at all costs. Not that he needed to ask, I would have done it anyway.” Zelda glanced at Sabrina and just as quickly dropped her gaze. “And then I just took it upon myself to extend that oath to the rest of you. I’m the head of the house, I couldn’t let anything happen to my family.” She wiped her eyes with her free hand once more. “I couldn’t, wouldn’t, lose anyone else. Not after mother and father, then Thomas, and even Edward. I _refused_ to lose one more family member if there was anything I was able to do to prevent it.” Zelda’s eyes swept over them all then, and Sabrina could see how haunted they were with the ghosts of lost family, with the burden she’d been carrying. 

Sabrina clenched her fists, the sudden desire to throttle her father for the terrible pressure, for demanding such a toll from Aunt Zelda flowed through her. How could he have asked his own sister to give so much? Aunt Hilda’s voice cut through her inner musings. 

“And what made you think you’d lose us, Zelda? That this was the only way—” 

A dark cackle emanated from Zelda, causing Sabrina to take a step back at the sound. “You know how the Dark Lord operates. Had I not taken the price He would have exacted it from all of you over time. Not right away, He’d have wrung each of you dry for all your worth before taking you. And He would have made me last, a head of house that cannot control her family doesn’t deserve a family in His eyes.” Zelda’s voice wobbled, but truth rang within it. 

Hilda reached out her hand a little further, trying to silently encourage Zelda to hand over the knife. “Zelds, you paid the price. Intended to keep paying it, the Dark Lord might not punish—” 

“No, I’ll make sure He won’t. I just have to get back before he realizes I’m not dead.” With renewed purpose, Zelda made a quick slashing movement with the knife. Hilda shrieked, and Sabrina flinched back, expecting more blood. 

But the knife was gone, Aunt Zelda’s hand empty. 

Zelda let out a frustrated whimper, eyes flying to someone standing behind Sabrina. Sabrina spun and saw, to her astonishment, Blackwood holding the knife. 

“I told you I wouldn’t lose you again.” He informed her, eyes filled with sorrow. “Especially not in front of me.” 

“Then turn away and it won’t be in front of you! Or, better yet, leave. All of you.” Zelda declared angrily, waving her hand in attempt to regain control over the knife. But she was too unfocused and emotional, and Blackwood maintained possession of the weapon. “I have to, Faustus, please.” Her tone had turned pleading, and she’d shuffled forward a little on her knees. 

Blackwood merely vanished the knife with a twirl of his fingers and fell to his knees to join the two witches on the ground. “No.” 

The ground shook beneath them then, and Zelda paled, eyes frantic. “He knows,” she murmured, horrified. “It has to be now!” She desperately grasped Aunt Hilda’s forearms, turning her plea to her sister. “Hilda, out of all of us, I’m the least important. The Spellmans will persevere, endure and thrive without me. You all are the future, I’ve been holding you back. It _has_ to be me that dies again and now. Please.” 

Hilda finally lost some of her composure, a sob ridden, “no, Zelds,” wrenching itself from her throat. “You’re wrong. You are the glue that keeps us together.” She yanked Zelda into a crushing hug, “without you, where would we be? I can’t lose you again.” 

Blackwood joined the hug, engulfing the sisters. Aunt Zelda moaned in despair, “no, no, no. I can’t lose any of you. He’ll take you all.” 

The vibrations from underground grew stronger until, about ten feet away, a large crack formed, and a red light shone from within it. Sabrina’s eyes widened as the Dark Lord himself emerged, Ms. Wardwell a step behind him. 

Sabrina barely registered the presence of her teacher, other than taking it as confirmation that the woman had manipulated her, and sprinted forward before anyone could stop her. “I’ll sign the Book of the Beasts.” She announced loudly, inserting herself between the Devil and her family. “Spare my Aunt Zelda, spare my entire family and I will sign your book.” 

Satan scoffed, “you think your signature is enough to pay a price I initially demanded be paid in blood?” 

“My signature and my service. I know how the book works. Take my deal or I will **never** sign the book.” Sabrina took pride in her confident ultimatum, though her legs felt like jelly as she delivered it. 

“Sabrina, no!” A ravaged voice sounded behind her, “that kind of service, the debt—” Sabrina glanced back to see Blackwood and Hilda restraining Aunt Zelda both physically and magically. 

Blackwood hissed, with a hand clamped over her aunt’s mouth, “it’s a good bargain, Zelda!” 

Sabrina nodded at them and turned back to the dark duo in front of her. “It was my actions that incurred the price to begin with. It should be mine to pay.” 

Wardwell advanced, a wicked smile and a dangerous gleam in her eye. She held the Book of the Beasts against her chest. “Your signature…. **and** you cut ties with the mortal realm.” 

The addendum hit Sabrina dully, she’d fought so hard to hold onto both of her lives…but there were far more important things at stake than her friendships. “If you swear that no harm comes to my family until it is time for their natural deaths, centuries from now.” 

Her teacher huffed and exchanged a lengthy look with Satan over her shoulder. Nodding, she turned her attention back to Sabrina. “No harm will come from our Dark Lord.” 

Frowning, Sabrina elaborated. “And He won’t send any demons, spirits or anything else to do his dirty work!” 

Wardwell rolled her eyes, “and He will not send any being to try and harm or claim the lives of the Spellman family before their time. Though, He cannot guarantee you and your family’s safety. You are witches, after all, and that comes with a degree of danger.” 

“Sabrina! You don’t have to sign. You don’t have to abandon your duality,” Zelda tried again, having apparently fought off Blackwood’s hand. “I can pay, I know how important—” Her voice was muffled again, and Sabrina couldn’t bring herself to turn around to see Hilda and Blackwood struggling to silence Aunt Zelda. 

But several tears did roll down her cheeks. The fact that Aunt Zelda thought she cared more for her ties to the mortal realm than her… well, it wasn’t as if Sabrina’s recent actions hadn’t supported that line of thinking. But for her aunt to believe that Sabrina would prefer she die to hold onto her mortal life—it opened a pit inside Sabrina. One that quickly filled with fire and determination. “I will forsake my mortal ties and fully embrace the Path of Night.” She proclaimed in a clear, steady voice. 

“It’s a deal,” Wardwell purred, opening the book and producing a pen from thin air. 

Ambrose strode forward and took her hand, slicing it so that her blood could drip onto the book. “Thank you, coz.” He whispered in gratitude before stepping back to allow her to sign. 

Taking a deep breath, Sabrina swiped the pen through the blood and scrawled her name in the book. A crackle of energy filled the air, swirled around her, before she absorbed it as if through osmosis. Sabrina gasped and dropped the pen, staggering back slightly. 

Smiling like a cat that got the canary, Wardwell murmured, “enjoy the academy on Monday.” She smirked, retreating to the crack in the ground and disappearing from sight. 

Satan followed but paused with one hoof in the ground. “Blackwood, our deal is still available…” 

The high priest glanced at Zelda, who was still in his arms, and shook his head. “I have no desire to make that deal anymore, my lord.” 

Snorting, the Dark Lord slipped back into the earth and it sealed behind him. 

All the bravado leaked from Sabrina the moment they were gone, her knees giving out, the adrenaline and raw magic pulsing through her overwhelming. Aunt Zelda was suddenly beside her—having been released from Blackwood and Hilda’s hold, and arms were drawing her in a tight hug and a whispered spell healed her hand before she could process everything that had happened. 

“Oh, my girl,” Zelda breathed, stroking her hair, “I never wanted you to carry the price. I never meant for you to choose—" 

At this Sabrina shook her head emphatically and shifted so that she could make eye contact with her aunt. “It wasn’t a choice, Aunt Zee. It was an easy decision, one that I would make again and again if it meant keeping,” she swallowed thickly, “keeping my mom. And you are. You’re a mother to me in every way that matters.” Sabrina finished, chin trembling with barely restrained emotions and she lurched forward to wrap her arms around Zelda’s neck, hugging her hard. “You are **far** more important to me than anything in that realm. I’m sorry I ever made you think otherwise,” she added in a fierce whisper. 

Aunt Zelda’s body heaved within Sabrina’s embrace and she knew her aunt was crying just as hard as she was. Suddenly, Ambrose joined the hug, then Hilda and even Blackwood. All of them kneeling on the ground in the middle of the forest, clinging to the woman who’d loved them so much she’d been willing to die twice… but who, apparently, hadn’t thought she’d meant all that much to them. 

“We love you, Zelda.” Aunt Hilda declared tremulously. “All of us, so much. Don’t you ever get it into your head that you are less important or less loved than anyone else in this family. How _dare_ you think that.” Her voice cracked and she couldn’t continue, though the rest of them murmured in agreement and the group hug tightened a little further. 

The embrace was finally broken when Vinegar Tom, unable to stay off to the side any longer, plowed into the group and wriggled into the center to cuddle his mistress. Zelda laughed and wiped some tears, hugging the dog to her. “Let’s go home,” she murmured, smiling shakily at them. 

Blackwood took charge and soon they were all teleported back to the Spellman house, Hilda leading the way into the kitchen talking about tea. 

“Only if it has whiskey in it,” Zelda quipped, following her sister as everyone else trailed after her in a small pack. Hilda raised a brow at her. “I died, I think I’ve earned some alcohol.” She added dryly and went to grab the desired bottle. 

They spent the next several hours drinking, tea only for Sabrina and tea with a healthy measure of whiskey for everyone else—even Hilda. 

The relative calm was broken when, after bumping into one of them for what was likely the seventh time and once more tripping over Vinegar Tom where he was pressed against her legs as she moved around the kitchen, Zelda snapped. “For Satan’s sake! I am not going anywhere. There is no need for this hovering nonsense.” She glared at each on them in turn. The rest of the group exchanged sheepish looks. 

“It’s just that, well, we lost you Zelda. You were, were dead and it was terrifyingly awful. We’re just so happy that you’re back.” Hilda piped up, smiling at her sister fondly. Sabrina noticed that she purposely left out that they were worried about her. About her confessions to flogging, how little she thought she mattered, how willing she’d been to die—no matter the reason behind it. But those were topics for discussion at another time. Right now, they all just wanted to bask in the fact that they were together, safe and alive. 

Sighing, Zelda acquiesced and sat back down on the bench by the table instead of her usual seat, allowing Sabrina and Ambrose to press against either side of her; Blackwood looking more than a little put out about having to sit across from her. 

After each of them had yawned a countless number of times, Zelda called it a night. Or morning, rather, she corrected herself, glancing out the window to see the sun creeping up. Standing slowly and stretching, they trooped to the front of the house, each family member giving her a lingering hug and a quick peck on the cheek before stating that they loved her as they made their way upstairs. 

Zelda didn’t miss how Faustus hung back, waiting for the others to reach the next level before approaching her. “Zelda, I—,” he struggled to continue and settled for tugging her into a tight embrace, one hand cradling the back of her head. “Can I come back for dinner?” He managed softly, not releasing her. 

She pulled back slightly, a gentle smile on her lips, “you won’t have to come back if you stay.” 

Faustus exhaled in relief and kissed her forehead, “thank you.” He murmured, taking her hand as she turned to go up to bed. 

As they neared the door, Zelda held up a finger for Faustus to wait a moment. She knocked on the door gently as she opened it, “Hilda?” She began, poking her head inside, only to see Hilda already settled in bed, a curtain erected between hers and Zelda’s. Scoffing, Zelda entered the room further, “we’re not going to do anything improper.” 

Hilda merely cocked a brow, “I know. Doesn’t mean I need to see you being all gooey and cuddling.” 

“We are _not_ gooey.” Zelda retorted, making a face at the suggestion. Though she turned and grabbed Faustus from where he was waiting in the hallway and dragged him onto her side of the barrier. 

They changed quickly, both eager to collapse into the bed and not move for possibly another decade. Zelda flicked her wrist to enlarge the bed and was surprised when Faustus halted the growth when it was just large enough to accommodate them both. 

She looked at him expectantly and he gave her a self-conscious shrug. “I, I want to be close to you tonight. To hold you in my arms with no chance of you rolling away from me.” He muttered in explanation, eyeing the curtain and keeping his voice low. Lips tugging into a smile, Zelda brushed her fingers against his cheek before climbing under the covers. Faustus quickly notching himself in behind her, sliding his arms around her waist and tugging her closer so that no space remained between them. 

Another silent spell had the lights off and blocked the sunlight that was beginning to stream through the windows. As they settled in, Zelda realized that she didn’t hear any noise coming from Hilda’s side—not even the rustle of sheets. Frowning, Zelda tested the air and noticed the subtle silencing spell her sister had cast. Really, as if she would be that inconsiderate. 

Though she did find herself thankful a moment later, when Faustus whispered an “I love you, Zelda,” into her hair. She’d been openly sentimental enough throughout this entire endeavor, she appreciated the privacy now. “Don’t **ever** leave me like that again. Or, or try to leave me like that.” He added, voice raw as he traced the thin, jagged cut on her arm where she’d attempted to repay the price. Though anyone of them could have healed it easy enough, Zelda left it. Needing some kind of physical reminder of what had transpired in the past day. A reminder of what she'd survived, what she'd almost lost. 

“Faustus,” she replied quietly, regardless of the spell Hilda had cast. She shifted so that she was lying partially on her back, still in his arms but able to place a soothing hand on his cheek. “I am not going anywhere.” Zelda reassured him firmly. “I, I know I scared you. And the others, for that I am sorry. But I did it all to protect my family. It was a last resort means of protection—it certainly hadn’t been plan A, or even Z. I knew by sacrificing myself I wouldn’t be around to protect them anymore, but there was no other way at the time. That particular situation and threat has passed, I have no intention of leaving any time soon.” She stroked a thumb over his cheekbone. “Alright?” 

He kissed her then, hard, as if to confirm that she was alive. When they broke for air, he pressed his forehead against hers and whispered fervently. “You are the most important person in all the realms to me. And I know for a fact that you are incredibly important to your family, just look at what they risked to bring you back to them.” 

Zelda tried to turn away then, not wanting to have this conversation. She’d revealed more than a few of the insecurities she’d hidden for a long time in her attempts to convince them to allow her to repay the price. She had no desire to address them now, or at any time for that matter. “Faustus…” She stated, in a warning tone. 

“No. You need to hear this.” He caught her cheek and gently turned her head so that they were looking at one another once more. “We all need you, we all love you and you are so important to each of us. I don’t know what led you to believe otherwise, but I know at least I will be doing everything I can to disabuse you of those ideas.” Faustus promised, burying a hand in her hair. 

And she tried to push away all the memories that swelled up of exactly what had given her such notions. The memories of her family smiling and having a good time only for her to enter the room to join and the merriment slipping away—their faces turning serious in her presence. The memory of her falling out with the warlock currently wrapped around her and how painful it had been when he married Constance not even six months later—how that had reaffirmed all of her doubts that she’d never mattered to the man, that he’d never loved her. A tear slipped out of the corner of her eye and onto the pillow from the sudden onslaught of exactly why she’d turned to flogging and aloofness in the first place. 

But here Faustus was, tangled up in her bed, exchanging endearments. And her family had gone to quite extraordinary lengths to restore her—so perhaps, perhaps Faustus was right. Maybe all of the wonderful things he was whispering were true. 

Never one for words when actions would suffice, Zelda pulled him in for another kiss, this one much more tender than the one moments before. Faustus’ hands ran along her body in light caresses as their lips moved together, and she knew that he meant to take it no further. He just needed to feel her solid presence against him. Sighing in contentment, they broke apart and resettled on the bed, her back firmly molded to his front, and fell asleep. 

Hours later, Zelda woke with a gasp and sat up partially. Faustus grumbled behind her, tightened his arm around her waist but otherwise didn’t stir. It only took Zelda a moment to realize why she’d woken, Sabrina was standing next to her side of the bed. 

“What’s the matter, darling?” She asked, reaching for her niece who was crying slightly. 

Sabrina shuffled her feet, “I had a dream that you were still de—, gone.” She corrected, seemingly unable to say dead. “I had to make sure. Make sure that you were really back, that I didn’t lose you.” Sabrina elaborated with a small sniff. 

Zelda’s heart somehow melted and clenched at the same time. “Oh, Sabrina,” she sighed, brushing away a few of the girl’s tears. “Would you like to stay here?” Sabrina nodded eagerly at the offer and with a quiet spell the bed extended another foot or two. Her niece immediately crawled under the covers and scooted closer to Zelda so that their foreheads almost touched. Gently, Zelda took Sabrina’s hand and kissed the back of it before holding it tightly to her chest. “All is well, sweetheart. Rest now.” 

Nodding sleepily, Sabrina snuggled further into the bed and mumbled, “I love you, Auntie Zelda.” Before dropping back into slumber. 

Zelda smiled and kissed Sabrina’s forehead before drifting back off herself. Only to wake once more several hours later when her feet bumped against something at the end of the bed. Raising her head, Zelda could just make out Ambrose and Vinegar Tom curled up on top of the covers at the foot of the bed, one of Ambrose’s hands resting on her ankle to reassure himself that she was there. Amazed and touched by the gesture, Zelda slipped back to sleep once more. 

The gradual lightening of the room woke Zelda one final time, and when she glanced at the clock it was almost 3 in the afternoon. She then noticed that the curtain had been drawn back and Hilda was sitting up in her bed reading and keeping an eye on them. Zelda smiled tearfully when they made eye contact—never having felt so surrounded by love. 

“I told you,” Hilda remarked, tears slipping down her face. “We need you. You’re loved and important.” 

And for the first time, Zelda believed this without a doubt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo much fluff, I know. But I couldn’t help but write a happy ending. An evil little part of my brain was very tempted to keep her dead—that was the other ending I had, but I couldn’t do it. 
> 
> Other thoughts—I feel like Zelda is very insecure underneath her calm, confident exterior and so I addressed some of that here. I couldn’t help myself in writing just a little more, so please enjoy the epilogue as well.


	9. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last one, I promise. Enjoy!

Lilith didn’t bother to suppress the smug smile spreading across her face as she and the Dark Lord descended back into Hell. The little brat had _finally_ signed the Book of the Beasts. And now she could retake her rightful place beside Satan. 

Sighing contentedly, she glanced over her shoulder at the hulking form following her, already picturing the two of them writhing in sinful ecstasy in a bed she’d conjure after He formally made her His queen. How she’d roll into His side after and run her fingers through the thick hair on His chest while they discussed their next move in ruling the realms. 

When they reached the throne room, Lilith pivoted to face Him. And just being back in Hell, being back in the Dark Lord’s presence was enough to make heat pool in her stomach and work its way lower. A coy smile tugged at her lips as she approached Him, putting a little extra sway in her hips; she really did rather enjoy this body. The mortal it had belonged to hadn’t done it justice, swaddling it in those frumpy dresses and scraping this glorious mane of hair into tight buns… no, she’d liberated this body and given it the owner it deserved. 

And now, now she would get what she deserved. What she’d _earned_ for all of her hard work and time spent slumming it with the mortals. Continuing her approach, “I told you her aunt was her weak point.” Lilith remarked demurely, watching the powerful being in front of her from under hooded lids. 

Satan looked down on her, unmoved by her advances. “You said it was the mortal boy, which is why I opened the portal and allowed her to enter limbo.” 

Lilith frowned, stopping in her tracks. “I overestimated her attachment to the boy.” She shrugged lightly, trying to dismiss the small blunder. “I should have seen that Zelda was the mother figure she so craved and yet denied. I should have seen that Zelda should have been the target all along.” There, some blame accepted, she knew her Dark Lord like his concubine submissive. 

“Yes, you should have seen that before I _killed_ her to pay the family’s price.” He growled, stalking past her to sit on his throne. 

Taken aback, Lilith placed a hand over her heart. “My lord, I had no idea that you’d kill her. If I’d—” 

“It was not my original intention.” He snapped, clearly irritated that the witch had goaded him into another course of action. “But she brought it upon herself with her insolence and inability to guide her family on the Path of Night.” 

“Well, in any case, Sabrina still signed.” She crooned, edging towards the throne, thinking to perch herself on the armrest and soothing the beast with more than just words. 

Her words, however, did not have the calming effect she’d intended. Lucifer slammed a fist against the armrest. “It should not have taken me killing one of the most powerful and high-ranking members in the Church of Night to sway a _child_ to sign the Book of the Beasts.” He roared, and the room rumbled with the force of his words. The following glare he shot at her halted her approach once more. 

“You planned on bringing her back all along though, right? To force Sabrina’s hand.” Lilith was trying to catch up, this was not the reaction she’d anticipated to the brat finally signing, to her being able to return home. 

“Had you done your duty her hand wouldn’t have needed forcing.” He snarled, looking at her expectantly. 

Lilith blinked, affronted that He was laying the blame solely at her feet. “My lord, I did everything I could to get Sabrina where she needed to be. Blackwood—” 

“ **Do not pass the blame, Lilith**. While we may have acquired Sabrina’s signature, she is by no means compliant and, in the process, you lost her trust. And I have lost control over my high priest.” 

She swallowed the anger that was threatening to boil over from within her. Lilith knew there was blame to spare, she surely did not deserve all of it. Had Lucifer not killed that damned woman Sabrina would have had no cause to question her role in recent events. But she did not allow any of this to show, instead she asked about the only part of the comment that threw her. “Blackwood? What do you—” 

“After killing Zelda my plan hinged on Sabrina being desperate enough to bring her aunt back that, when **I** offered, she’d sign without hesitation. I did not expect Zelda to find some way to defeat death. That witch was clever enough to find a way to bring herself back.” He spat, disgusted that the Spellman matriarch had been several moves ahead of him. “I did not expect her family to be bold enough to go through with the ritual.” 

Why did any of this matter? Why could he not simply accept the victory and reward her for her efforts? “But Sabrina still signed, it was the outcome we wanted, even if it wasn’t by the means we planned.” 

The Dark Lord continued to speak, ignoring her interjection. “I did not expect one of my high priests to participate in the illegal ritual that he _knew_ went against my explicit will. He prevented the woman from repaying the price and then refused our initial deal which would have made Zelda the next and final Lady Blackwood. He no longer sees my influence as necessary.” 

Lilith restrained an eye roll and bit back a scoff—none of what Blackwood had done, what the Spellmans had done, in the aftermath of Zelda’s death had been her fault. She’d been left in the dark and therefore could not be held responsible—though she was sure the Dark Lord would find some way to make it hers. If he’d only confided in her, she was sure events would have occurred in a way that was more favorable for them. But she withheld these thoughts as well and continued to listen to Lucifer’s rant. 

“I was the one to kill the woman he ‘loves’, and I can sense it now that he values her more than the church. He will not forget that I took her away, even if only for a little while. It was to be MY MERCY! MY MERCY THAT BROUGHT HER BACK TO THEM!” He bellowed, pushing out of his throne and pacing across the room, heat searing and flames shooting up from his footprints. “ **MY MERCY**. Not Zelda’s intelligence, not her family’s blatant disregard and disrespect for me, and not that child’s brazen offer.” 

She ran her tongue over teeth in irritation, unclear as to why He was so upset. They’d gotten the brat’s signature—which He’d been adamant about obtaining, that they ‘needed’ the girl to join them. Now she had, why did it matter that one high priest had gone rogue in the process? The Dark Lord had disposed of wayward high priests before, this wouldn’t even be the first priest from the Church of Night that He’d killed, why was this one any different? Why was this one irking him? 

“My lord, I—” Lilith began to placate, wanting to leave the throne room now that it was apparent she wouldn’t be getting any sort of reward. 

Lucifer interrupted her once more. “You will return to their realm.” 

Lilith reared back, as if struck. No, this wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. After Sabrina signed, she should have been permitted to return home. Should have been granted the title Queen of Hell. Should have resumed her duties as mother of demons; those had been neglected for far too long, she’d even had to harm several of her children in her pursuit of the Spellman brat’s signature. No, this wasn’t right. 

“My lord, my position at the mortal school is no longer necessary.” 

He shook his head, “you will teach at the academy. Blackwood will not refuse you a position. Keep an eye on Sabrina, though she is not likely to confide in you any longer. You will also watch the rest of the Spellman family. I sense they will break away soon.” He gritted, scowling as he reclaimed his spot on the throne. “Blackwood will likely follow. I did not think it possible, but now I am convinced that he loves that witch.” 

This time Lilith didn’t bother to hold back her scoff of derision. “Witches are only capable of familial love and love for you, my lord.” 

“Blackwood’s actions prove otherwise, and so have Zelda’s.” He sneered at the thought, that romantic love had developed between the two. “She will follow her family—her love for them and her compulsion to protect them at any cost will not allow her to do anything but join them in their abandonment of the Church of Night. And her reciprocation of Blackwood’s feelings mean that he will follow her. So, you will watch and report back to me, for as long as you are able.” 

Confused, she took a step towards him and repeated for clarification. “As long as I am able…?” 

Satan snorted, “you tipped your hand. Even if Zelda was too distracted to notice your presence in the forest, she will not remain ignorant of your role for long. Do you not think my little pawn Sabrina will not tell her aunt of you? Her suspicions.” He cocked his head at her, daring her to contradict him, but she knew He was right. “Zelda Spellman is a formidable witch when calm. She would have challenged you greatly, possibly won, in a normal duel. Now, however? Her powers will increase, to a degree, when irate—as with all witches. How enraged do you believe she will be upon hearing of your role in her niece’s recent activities? Upon realizing you’ve been trying to groom the girl? How much more powerful do you believe that will make her?” 

Lilith chuckled uneasily, “my lord, surely you—” 

“I cannot currently touch her, nor send any creature to interfere, her niece’s deal holds true… for now. I will find a way around it. Until then, you are on your own, as Zelda will surely be aware of. We’ll see how long she sticks to her ‘witches don’t kill witches’ creed.” 

Her eyes widened, He was forsaking her. After, after centuries of service, devotion and loyalty. It was as her familiar had warned her, Satan didn’t want Sabrina as a foot solider, He wanted her to reign by His side. The deepest, most powerful surge of hatred crashed through Lilith, like Hell she would let that brat take what was hers. 

The Dark Lord took her silence as shock and leered at her. “Oh, Lilith, I don’t see you making it to the end of term.” And with that, He waved a hand and she found herself outside of the Academy of Unseen Arts. 

~~~~~~~~~~ 

Sabrina hovered outside of Aunt Zelda’s workshop, she’d taken up midwifery full time again. Claiming that life was too short not to do what she loved; the joke had fallen flat, but they were happy she was happy. Which was why Sabrina had yet to interrupt, she could hear Zelda humming to herself as flasks clinked together as she worked. 

She didn’t want to add any stress, didn’t want to disturb the level of calm Zelda had that Sabrina had never seen before. A certain peace achieved now that her aunt didn’t question, or question as much, how much her family loved and valued her. A certain peace now that she didn’t feel quite the drive to protect them from everything, they’d told her, under no uncertain terms, that they would all play a role in protecting the family from now on. 

All of this was why Sabrina was lurking just out of sight by the door instead of barging in as she had done so often in the past. But… Mary Wardwell had been at the academy on Monday, had taught Sabrina’s class on demonology. That had been shock enough, and her immediate instinct had been to rush to the phone in the main corridor and call her aunts to tell them. 

Only a few days had passed since the ordeal in the woods though, and Sabrina had hung up the phone in the middle of dialing thinking her aunts had been through enough. A week spent in Wardwell’s suffocating presence had changed her mind. Sabrina had immediately gone home when classes ended on Friday and rushed upstairs to find Aunt Zelda. 

She couldn’t wait any longer to speak to Zelda about that woman. If nothing else, her continued presence in Sabrina’s day-to-day life meant that other plans were brewing, and she didn’t want to have to face them alone. Taking a deep breath, Sabrina knocked tentatively on the door frame as she entered the room. “Auntie Zee?” 

~~~~~~~~ 

The flask shattered in Zelda’s clenched hand and the light bulbs burst from the sudden surge of magic her aunt had exuded. Carefully opening her hand and letting the remaining glass tinkle onto the table, Zelda stated in a deadly calm tone, “give me a moment.” She then laid down on the floor, hands in precise positions. 

Sabrina’s eyebrows flew up, broken glass she’d expected. But astral projecting immediately after learning her niece’s teacher had been manipulating events behind the scenes was a reaction Sabrina hadn’t anticipated. She was about to start laying out candles around Zelda, her aunt not having even taken the time for normal projecting precautions, when Zelda sat up with a muted gasp. Before Sabrina could ask anything, Aunt Zelda was up off the floor, out of the workroom and heading down the stairs. Leaving Sabrina to trail after her in confusion. 

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Zelda whistled, Vinegar Tom came bounding around the corner and sat in front of her, tail thumping happily. “I may need your assistance,” she murmured, rubbing the dog’s ears. “You know where to go.” Tom barked and was gone in the blink of an eye. Zelda merely turned and began to pull her coat on. 

“Wait, Auntie Zee, what?” She couldn’t form a coherent sentence, and Zelda raised a brow at her. 

“We’re going to confront this Wardwell woman, of course. Hilda!” She called out, turning to the kitchen and leaving Sabrina gaping at her. 

Hilda turned from where she was revising her grimoire on herbs and their uses for countering hexes and curses, “yeah Zelds?” 

“Do we have any of the truth cake left?” Zelda questioned, already opening and closing random cabinets. 

Furrowing her brow, Hilda stood from the table, “yes…it’s stale though, why?” 

Waving a dismissive hand, Zelda kept searching. “It doesn’t need to be fresh, just effective. Will the staleness affect the potency?” She glanced at Hilda. 

“No…. why do you need it?” Hilda opened the correct cupboard before Zelda could disturb anything else in the kitchen and pulled out the remains of the truth cake. 

Zelda rolled her eyes, cutting off a small portion and wrapping it before stowing it in her pocket. “Clearly I need the truth from someone and don’t expect them to give it willingly.” She then marched back to the front door, a “come Sabrina,” instructed over her shoulder. Aunt Zelda paused and allowed Sabrina to hurriedly pull on her coat, “Hilda, we’ll likely be late for dinner.” With that she was out the front door, Sabrina followed, shrugging at Aunt Hilda as she shut the door behind her. 

Once outside, Aunt Zelda took her hand and teleported them. Sabrina swayed slightly upon landing and was surprised to see that they’d arrived in the high priest’s office at the academy. 

“Zelda,” Blackwood stood and kissed her aunt gently in greeting. “Ms. Spellman,” he added, turning to her with an inclined head. 

“Father Blackwood,” Sabrina mumbled, still uncomfortable around the two of them. 

Zelda broke in, “is she still here?” 

Blackwood nodded, “in the office at the end of the hall, on the right. I placed a discreet tethering spell on her to prevent her from slinking off when she sensed you.” 

“Sensed me?” 

The high priest chuckled, “Zels, you’re emanating so much power that I could practically taste it when you were only projecting. It’s, it’s nearly overwhelming in person.” He paused, and his eyes swept over her hungerly. Sabrina suspected that had she not been there, and Zelda not so single-mindedly focused, Blackwood would’ve taken her aunt then and there on his desk. Sabrina shuddered at the thought and turned away from the couple. “Trust me,” he murmured huskily, “she’ll sense you if she hasn’t already.” 

Considering this a moment, Aunt Zelda simply shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I’m rather itching for a fight.” She removed her coat and draped it on the couch. 

“Want assistance?” Zelda partially turned and cocked an eyebrow at Blackwood. “Not that you need it,” he was quick to add. “But I thought…” 

“Sabrina is here. We’ll be fine, Faustus.” She patted his cheek. 

Sabrina grinned, proud that Aunt Zelda had chosen her for backup. She could tell that Blackwood wanted to pout, likely he’d wanted to witness the interaction and resulting duel more than anything. 

Sighing, he tried once more. “I’ll come and check on you in 20 minutes?” 

Zelda huffed in amusement and didn’t quite hide the smile his concern brought to her lips. “Alright, 20 minutes and not before.” She squeezed his forearm before turning and briskly leaving the room, Sabrina chasing after her. 

“What’s the plan?” Sabrina asked eagerly, falling into step with her aunt. 

Eyes remaining forward, “get answers.” Zelda replied darkly, and then added under her breath, “and revenge.” Suddenly the air surged and crackled, power like Sabrina had never felt or thought possible filled the hallway, causing the hairs on her arms and neck to stand on end. Sabrina gaped at Zelda in awe, who tilted her head and lifted a shoulder in slight acknowledgement. “If she will sense me coming no matter what, why hide? Why not let her know exactly who is coming for her?” The magic in the air thickened even further and shivers raced up and down Sabrina’s spine. 

She hadn’t really known what to expect when she’d told Aunt Zelda about Wardwell’s full involvement in her recent escapades, her almost undeniable betrayal. But this, this was something else. And it had adrenaline coursing through her as the marched down the final stretch of the corridor. 

When they reached the door to the office, they could hear hurried shuffling and muted bangs. Zelda smirked and turned to Sabrina. “She knows we’re here. I know you have many questions, we will get answers. But I will go in first, she’s likely setting traps, you will wait _outside_ until I signal you that it’s safe. Hold this.” She pressed the truth cake into Sabrina’s hand. 

“What?! But you said I was the backup.” She argued quietly. 

Zelda arched a brow at her. “And you are, but I do not anticipate needing it. It will be a fight and I will not risk you getting hurt by a stray spell. You’ve not even had your first dueling lesson yet, I need you to remain out here in case of anything.” When Sabrina made to argue once more Aunt Zelda cut her off. “Sabrina, I do not doubt your power, but it is untested, raw. And,” she swallowed hard and continued. “And having you know I am capable of extreme violence when necessary is one thing, having you witness me perpetuating extreme violence is another. This witch…” Zelda’s jaw worked side to side, unable to articulate anything for a moment. “This witch has plotted to use you. And I do not plan on holding anything back to find out what that plot was or is. She also must be taught a lesson.” 

Sabrina’s eyes went round. “What lesson?” She whispered. 

“No one messes with my girl.” Zelda declared, rolling up her sleeves. Sabrina smiled, Aunt Zelda had gone full mama bear mode and it was an incredible sight to see--not that she'd ever make the comparison out loud. “Ready?” Zelda smiled wickedly, the air cracking and heaving with magic. 

Sabrina haltingly allowed her own raw magic filter into the air and join her aunt’s. “Ready.” 

Nodding, and with a proud glint in her eyes, Zelda shifted back to the door and blasted it in. Revealing an uneasy Wardwell standing behind her desk, a wavering smile on her face. 

“Now ladies,” she tried to appease, holding her hands up in apparent surrender. There was a sudden screech from the side of the room and before Sabrina could react Vinegar Tom was leaping past her and tackling Wardwell’s familiar as it swooped down to attack. 

Sabrina only caught a glimpse of Zelda blocking one spell and slamming Wardwell into a bookcase with another before she was shoved backwards and the door slammed shut in her face. Alarmed, she yanked on the door knob, trying to force it with magic when she was unable to open it. It refused to budge. 

All she could do was wait, listening to the crashes, curses, shrieks of pain and what sounded like a small explosion take place on the other side of the damned door. It felt like an eternity until the door swung open once more to admit her. 

The air was hazy with dust and spell residue, char marks stretched up one wall and a majority of the furniture was in pieces, the contents strewn across the floor. Zelda stood proudly over a subdued Ms. Wardwell, her hair ruffled, sporting a multitude of scrapes and bruises, and her jacket smoking slightly but otherwise unharmed. 

Sabrina’s teacher, on the other hand, had certainly seen much better days. A large bruise spanned across her neck and onto her collarbone. A deep gash made its way from her hair line and over one cheek. Her dress was badly singed, and one hand bore burn marks. Occasionally the woman would violently spasm against her bindings, leading Sabrina to believe she was still experiencing the after effects of a hex. While the women may have been equal in power, Aunt Zelda had had cold fury on her side and the edge it had given her showed. 

“The cake, Sabrina.” Zelda ordered, holding out her hand, steely eyes locked on the witch in front of her. Sabrina produced the cake, wordlessly taking in the destruction of the room and how Vinegar Tom was sitting on top of Wardwell’s crow familiar, a snarl gracing the dog’s lips every time the bird twitched. Zelda knelt in front of the gagged woman, “we can do this the easy way, you eat this,” she held up the cake, “and we have a nice chat. Or…” Her eyes gleamed malevolently, “Sabrina leaves the room again and I get creative.” 

Grumbling against her gag, Wardwell jerked her head towards the cake. Zelda smiled, “smart choice.” She reached for the cloth and paused. “Try anything and the burning pits of Hell will seem like a holiday after I am through with you.” She hissed, Wardwell nodded and turned her head to allow Zelda to remove the gag. 

Once free of the gag, Wardwell sneered at them but opened her mouth compliantly. She chewed the cake and swallowed, grimacing before she opened her mouth widely to demonstrate that she’d eaten the whole thing. “Did it have to be stale?” She quipped, rolling her shoulders uncomfortable against ropes. 

“I was in a hurry. And taking your taste buds into consideration wasn’t high on my priority list.” Zelda replied dryly, waving a hand and two of the arm chairs reconstructed themselves. Taking a seat in one, Zelda leaned forward on her knees and watched Wardwell for a moment. “Sabrina, ask her what you want.” 

Surprised that she got to go first, Sabrina ignored the second chair and stood over her teacher. “Who are you? Really?” 

The witch fought against the truth serum for a moment, but ultimately could not prevent herself from saying, “I’m not Mary Wardwell.” 

Zelda rolled her eyes and backhanded the woman. “This will go much faster and be much less painful if you do not attempt to tell half-truths to satisfy the potion.” 

Growling, Wardwell turned her attention back to Sabrina, and her voice deepened and became less human as she spoke. “I’m the mother of demons, the dawn of doom, Satan’s concubine… or I was. I’m Lilith, my dear Spellmans. First wife to Adam, saved from despair by a fallen angel. I called myself Madam Satan, in his honor.” The woman spat. 

Zelda sat back in her chair, stunned. The Devil’s mistress was the one she had at her mercy? That certainly upped the stakes. But she hadn’t missed how Lilith had referred to herself as Satan’s concubine in past tense, how she’d said she ‘called’ herself Madam Satan. 

“What happened to the real Ms. Wardwell?” Sabrina asked softly, and Zelda blinked, not having spared a thought for the mortal woman. 

Cackling, Lilith grinned. “I killed her. Crafting scissors to the neck really is a pathetic way to go. But I needed her body, so it was a quick death.” Sabrina took a step back, paling at the declaration. 

Before they got too off track with that line of inquiry, Zelda lit a cigarette and asked a question of her own. “And what does a concubine and the Dark Lord want with **my** niece?” 

Lilith ground her teeth and struggled against the ropes before sighing and answering—her voice reverting to Mary Wardwell’s. “I sought a new title. You see, once I was done grooming Sabrina to take my place as Satan’s foot soldier, I should have been rewarded with a crown and a throne by His side. I was to be the future Queen of Hell. But that bastard has forsaken me!” Her voice lost its human tone once more and it grated on Sabrina’s ears. 

Though she saw red for a moment at the mention of this demoness ‘grooming’ Sabrina, Zelda’s lips pulled back into a Cheshire cat-like grin. “Forsaken you. Well, now, that is interesting.” She tapped of the ash off her cigarette onto the floor. “Why is that?” 

“I didn’t get the brat to sign the book soon enough. One mistake in centuries of service and He abandons me. He knew you’d come for me, expected it. And still He did nothing, left me to die!” Lilith’s eyes burned with hellfire, and Zelda could recognize a woman scorned when she saw one. 

Though she had come here tonight with the intention of killing this woman after they interrogated her, a much bolder idea was forming. They could use this woman in their plan, she had been beside the Dark Lord almost as long as He’d existed, her knowledge of Him, her access. She could prove immeasurably useful. 

Besides, the Dark Lord had plans for her girl. Zelda doubted He’d gone through all this trouble for a foot soldier, especially such a resistant one. That may be what He’d told Lilith, but that didn’t mean that was the end game. Why else would Satan accept a mere signature in place of a life? No, whatever His grand scheme was, Zelda most certainly wasn’t going to let it play out, not before her own came into fruition. 

“Lilith,” she drawled, eyeing the mother of demons. “I have a proposition for you.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Blackwood entered the room exactly 20 minutes after they’d left his office. Sabrina bit her lip to hold back the giggle at his disappointed face upon realizing all the fun had already happened. In fact, Lilith wasn’t even bound anymore, but sitting behind her recently repaired desk. 

He bent and pecked Zelda on the cheek, one hand on her shoulder. “Thank you for not destroying too much academy property.” He glanced around the room, evidently surprised it was relatively in one piece. “I thought there’d be more…. damage.” He finished, eyeing Lilith as he did. 

“A mangled corpse, you mean.” He lifted a brow and gave Zelda a knowing look. “It was a near thing. But Lilith and I have come to an agreement.” Aunt Zelda explained, crossing her legs. 

Blackwood blinked and looked at the witch behind the desk once more. “Not Lilith as in—” 

“Mother of demons and consumer of male flesh, yes.” Lilith interrupted, smirking as her eyes swept over Blackwood. 

The high priest sneered in return, “and how do we know she can be trusted?” He murmured, eyes trained on the demoness. 

“Some of Hilda’s truth cake,” Zelda replied, chuckling when Blackwood looked uncomfortable at the mention of the recipe. “And an old blood magic pact. Not much else can hold the ‘dawn of doom’ to a promise. Though our interests do align.” Blackwood turned his gaze onto Zelda for further explanation, but Zelda merely shook her head minutely, as if to convey that she would tell him later. 

Sighing, Blackwood surveyed Lilith once more. “So, we have another ally then. She could prove quite useful.” 

Lilith’s smug look slipped away, “ _he’s_ in on it?!” Her head whipped back and forth between the adults. “What could possibly motivate a man—” 

Blackwood’s thunderous expression quelled the rest of her statement. “The Dark Lord took my children when he could have easily spared them. They. Were. Innocents.” He snarled, slamming his fists on the desk, though he blinked rapidly. Regaining himself, he added, “Satan then proceeded to kill Zelda. I mean to ensure that He is no longer capable of taking what I love from me. I will make sure He loses what He holds most dear—His position and power.” 

The demoness sat back, clearly not having expected an actual answer from the high priest. She then turned her attention to Sabrina and Zelda. “I assume the rest of your family is on board.” 

“Naturally,” Zelda supplied, taking another draw of nicotine. 

Sabrina stepped forward then, having let the adults do most of the talking up until this point. “We didn’t appreciate the Dark Lord’s treatment of my aunt.” She supplied, tone hard. “In fact, we don’t like His treatment of any witch, for that matter. But, Him trying to take Aunt Zee,” she clutched her aunt’s hand. “That crossed _every_ line.” 

“And I refuse to let Him interfere with or hurt my family ever again. He is the biggest threat to them, and I don’t trust Him to hold to this deal He made. Even if He does, I will not allow Sabrina to remain in His debt.” Zelda’s eyes flashed at the simple mention of Sabrina being at the beck and call of the Devil. 

Lilith shrugged, satisfied with their motivations. “Satan will come for you first,” she nodded at Blackwood. “While He figures a way around the deal He made with Sabrina. The deal specifically only applied to the Spellman family.” 

“Which is why he’s now part of the family.” Zelda noted dryly, taking a puff from her cigarette. 

“What?” Lilith looked all the three of them, stunned. 

Blackwood tried to suppress a smile but didn’t succeed entirely. “We’re married.” He announced proudly, placing a hand on Zelda’s shoulder once more. 

Zelda rolled her eyes playfully, and blew smoke from the corner of her mouth, “it was the most logical strategy to protect Faustus from the Dark Lord’s wrath. We knew He wouldn’t take kindly to his participation in recent events. So, we made him family.” She stated all of this stoically, though she didn’t miss how Sabrina smirked and shook her head. But simply because the family had heard them express feelings didn’t mean those sentiments needed to be repeated for other audiences. 

“I hadn’t heard…” 

“Which is what we preferred. It was a quiet, intimate event.” Zelda provided, “and we mean to keep it quiet. No need to provide the Dark Lord or His cronies with information. And perhaps He’ll attempt something and void His deal with Sabrina all on His own.” 

Lilith lifted a brow and tilted her head to examine them. “He underestimates you. I was sent to watch and report. To let Him know when you planned to leave the church. But you don’t mean to leave it. You mean to destroy it, reshape it.” 

Zelda smirked, happy that Lilith had caught on so quickly, “the church takes. It’s our turn to return the favor. It will require time, patience, subtlety. But the Dark Lord will fall.” 

Still not entirely convinced, Lilith frowned. “And who will rule in His place? His demise will only create a power vacuum. Every demon, spirit, power hungry witch and malignant being will vie for the chance to rule.” 

Sabrina exchanged a look with her aunt and Blackwood before Zelda spoke once more. “Why, Lilith, who better to rule Hell and ensure that witches are treated well than the mother of demons? You are already recognized in all the realms and those you just listed as potentials for the throne will bow out for you. You have served the Dark Lord most your life, they will accept you and your power.” Zelda nodded towards Sabrina then, “and my niece has told me of your opinions of the patriarchy. Which means I am confident that you will work to dismantle it.” She glanced apologetically at Blackwood, but he shrugged, unconcerned. 

“I have benefitted from it, used it to my advantage on many occasions. But all at the cost of the advancement of the coven. If our kind wasn’t so strictly bound to a higher being, if our powers weren’t something that could be stripped away or enhanced at His will, think of the things we could achieve.” 

The mother of demons slumped back into her chair, “me.” Though she looked immensely pleased by the idea. “After everything I have done to your family, why would you help me?” 

“Better a devil I know.” Zelda quoted, though she steepled her hands and smiled meaningfully, “let’s make a deal. We, in addition to any other coven member we recruit, will take down the Dark Lord and put you in His place. In return, you rule the realms fairly, give witches the freedom we so crave, remain open to change and… always remember _who_ put you on that brimstone throne.” 

Lilith swept her eyes over them, as if assessing her troops. Finding them lacking, she asked, “who would we recruit?” 

“Prudence.” Sabrina supplied immediately, “and Agatha and Dorcas. They’re less than thrilled that their powers are tied to a higher being, and that in order to access their full abilities they have to sign away their freedom. I’m sure they’ll be able to help me find more witches who feel the same at the academy.” 

Blackwood nodded, “and I can think of more than a few coven members who were more aligned with Edward’s progressive beliefs. They will join readily as well, eager to be out from under Satan’s thumb.” 

“Hilda knows of several excommunicated individuals who want in and Ambrose is testing the waters with the younger warlocks—he has some promising prospects.” Zelda added, inspecting her nails. 

Lilith tilted her head, reluctantly impressed at their numbers. “It’s a start. But, should we fail…” She let the sentence hang in the air. 

“Then we all die slow, excruciating deaths and spend centuries in the burning pits as punishment.” Aunt Zelda stated this nonchalantly, sitting further back in her chair and resting her arms on either arm rest. Though her regal manner was detracted from slightly when her eyes flickered to Sabrina in concern. 

The high priest slid his hand from Zelda’s shoulder to the back of her neck, brushing his thumb against the skin there comfortingly. “Then we don’t fail.” He stated evenly, as if overthrowing the Devil himself was an easy endeavor. Sabrina nodded with conviction in response to Blackwood’s declaration and took her aunt’s hand, squeezing it tightly in support. 

Lilith arched a brow and an excited and malicious smile unfurled on her lips. “Alright,” she leaned forward on the desk and looked to Zelda expectantly. “I’m in.” 

Stubbing out what little was left of her cigarette, Zelda smiled coldly in return. “Marvelous. Let’s usurp the Dark Lord.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for all the comments and feedback. I hope you liked the ending. I liked the idea of Satan actually allowing Sabrina into limbo, ups the manipulation factor....and she is just 16 not some crazy powerful person—like Zelda said. 
> 
> Thank you to @KateWrites who gave me the idea on expanding my epilogue and including a Sabrina/Zelda confront Lilith segment. Was originally going to just leave Lilith hanging in the breeze at the academy, but I like this ending much better!
> 
>  
> 
> If anyone has any prompts or ideas for fics you can send them to me on tumblr, my user is frizz22 on there as well. Or you can just leave comments on here. I’ll try my best to write something for you!


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